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#I watched 3 different people hit the same patch the other day
ladykailitha · 5 months
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Well Met By Moonlight Part 6
Hey, this story is back too! I know I was supposed to be working on it all of October, but that kinda went to hell as October was an unusually busy month for me.
So have a long chapter as an apology.
Here we have Wayne rocking Jason and Patrick's world and Josh just casually dropping a bomb on Steve.
Also I was noticing that engagement to my stories have dropped off again. I'mma gonna blame Tumblr and the holidays. In all seriousness if my tags aren't tag you let me know. I'll try to find a different way to tag again.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
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Jason and Patrick showed up at Wayne’s trailer at dawn. The old vampire sat on the porch with a large sun hat and every other part of his skin covered.
Both boys came to an abrupt stop.
“I didn’t know vampires could walk in daylight,” Patrick said, getting his voice back sooner than Jason.
Wayne was on them in an instant. Not as fast as he was at night, but still quicker than a human. He grabbed Patrick’s wrist and yanked it to eye level. A patch of skin showed between Wayne’s sleeve and his weathered work glove. The skin reddened but didn’t blister or catch fire.
Wayne dropped Patrick’s hand. “Our skin is merely more sensitive than yours. I moved slower to make sure none of my skin became exposed.”
Both boys gulped. They thought they were going to have an easier time during the day, but Wayne had put that to bed right quick.
“Get in the truck,” Wayne growled and the boys hurried to obey.
He got into the driver’s seat and drove out past city limits. They pulled up to an old church.
“I’m about to blow another stupid superstition out of the water,” he chuckled. “Follow me.”
He hopped out the truck and they scrambled to follow him. He walked right up to a big wrought iron gate that read: HAWKINS CITY CEMETERY and pulled out a set of keys. After he rifled through them a moment, he unlocked the gate.
He stepped onto hallowed ground and Jason and Patrick gulped audibly as they watched him cross himself.
“Follow me,” Wayne said gruffly.
The two boys hurried to obey.
They strolled through the cemetery to a relatively new part of the grounds. It had roughly ten or so headstones all about the same age, dirty and overgrown.
“You’ll start with scrubbing each of these headstones,” he told them. “I will teach you how to clean them properly and that is what you will do until I say otherwise.”
“Sir?” Patrick asked, raising his hand timidly.
Wayne huffed and cocked an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Why are they like that?” he asked a little more sure. “Doesn’t anyone come to mourn them?”
Wayne licked his lip slowly. “This is the old Harrington pack. These are all those that sided with alpha Jack Sullivan when he chose to hunt humans in my town.”
“So they are monsters,” Jason sneered.
Wayne was on him in a second, hand wrapped around his throat. “Let me make it clear, boy. Ted Bundy was human. H.H. Holmes was human. Adolf Hitler was human. Fucking Caligula was human. Nasty people do all sorts of nasty ass shit. Monsters don’t exist. Just bad people doing horrible things to others.”
Jason’s eyes were wide. He could feel Wayne’s hand on his throat but it was so feather light he could almost trick his mind that it wasn’t there. That he could escape.
But that part of his brain that lit up when there was a predator nearby wouldn’t let him. It would take all of a single heartbeat for Wayne Munson to crush his windpipe. He would be dead before he even hit the ground.
“Steve Harrington could call you two monsters, after all,” Wayne growled. “Do you think he’d be right for it?”
Patrick refused to look at Jason or Wayne, just stared at the ground, worrying his bottom lip.
Jason’s eyes went wide as he looked into dark pools of Wayne’s eyes. What he found there weren’t the eyes of a beast or a monster, but of man granted the abilities to protect those he loved better than most.
If death was a suitable punishment for hunting and then attempted rape and murder of a woman, than why were they granted a boon when those laying there in the dirt did not.
“Why spare us?” Jason breathed. “Why not do us like you did them?”
“The mayor wanted me to,” Wayne explained. “Tearing you two apart would be as easy as ripping up a newspaper for kindling.”
“So why didn’t you?” Patrick asked, looking up at them.
“Because to me you are but infants in the grand scheme of things,” he said. “Killing you would have sent a message to the town, to the nation that hunting people like animals is not to be tolerated.”
He let go of Jason’s neck. “But do you want to know what else it would have done?”
The two boys shared a glance.
“It would have galvanized all the hunters in the country,” Wayne informed them. “They would have turned you two into martyrs. You would become their rallying cry. Hunters would have invaded our small town, killed anyone they thought was a vampire or werewolf. They wouldn’t have stopped to check either. No trials. No tests with silver. Anyone they thought was a supe, they’d be dead. This place would be in ruins in days.”
Jason and Patrick’s jaws dropped.
“And before you get any bright ideas,” he warned them, “all I have to do is turn you over to the law. Two months of a trial plus the automatic death sentence for hunting and you two are dead without the fuss.”
Patrick had started to believe him, but he knew Jason was going to a hard sell. But he had time.
“Now that’s all been cleared up,” Wayne said. “Let me show you how to clean these headstones and then you’ll be doing it all yourselves.”
They nodded and Wayne got to work. Once he was sure they had it, he perched on a nearby tree stump and watched.
*
“That boy shouldn’t be here,” Murray growled.
Steve sighed heavily. “So you have several times since sun up. The point of this is to teach him that werewolves aren’t the monsters from their fiction.”
They were standing in front of the compound entrance for Josh Bentley to arrive. Josh would work his first six weeks with the pack and his second six weeks with the coven. Chance would do the reverse.
Josh showed up on time, his parents trailing behind like frightened deer in the headlights.
Steve stepped forward. “Hey, Josh. Mr and Mrs Bentley. It’s nice to see you.”
Mr Bentley gripped Josh’s shoulders from behind tightly as Mrs Bentley held Josh’s hand tightly. They nodded mutely.
“So here’s how it’s going to go,” Steve continued as if they had greeted him back. “On the weekends he is here from sun up to sun down and then every day after school. He can tell you what he does here. Nothing he’ll see is a secret. However there will be areas that are off limits for his protection…” He cocked his head to side. “Mainly due to not having the strength to get there.”
They stared at him blankly and he laughed. “He’ll see what I mean later.” He held out his hand. “Come on, it’s time to show you around.”
Josh looked back at his dad, who nodded. He let go of his mom’s hand and walked toward Steve.
“This is Murray Bauman,” Steve explained. “He’s the sentry right now.”
“Why do you need a sentry if it’s not secret?” Josh asked.
Murray’s grin was slimy. “Yes, Steve, why do you need a sentry if it isn’t secret?”
“It not a secret what’s in a museum or art gallery either,” Steve said with a shrug, “but they still have people protecting it.”
“So it’s valuable?” Josh asked, eyes wide.
He ruffled the kid’s hair. “Not in the way you mean. It’s valuable because all life is valuable. One of our pups was a test subject of the last Dominus and we don’t want our own taken like that again.”
Josh nodded. They started walking through the woods, leaving a disgruntled Murray behind.
“That makes sense,” Josh said. “If someone hurt my family like that, I’m not sure I wouldn’t want to lock them to keep them safe, too.”
Steve nodded back. “Right. All the wolves are free to come and go as they will, but we screen outsiders now because it’s been scary for us.”
Josh ducked his head. “Like what we did.”
Steve stopped their trek through the woods and turned to him. “Very like. But that’s why you’re here and not Andy or Patrick or Jason. Because you realized on some level what they were doing was wrong, but went along with it because you wanted to be cool like you thought they were.”
Josh nodded. “I like basketball. It’s fun and Jason was the captain, you know. I thought it was going to be a little hazing thing. Because you were on the team, too. They made it sound like you knew it was coming and was in on it.”
Steve felt a cold sliver of dread down slip his spine. “What?”
Josh bit his lip.
“Yeah, they told us that the trap was fake and that it wasn’t real silver. Things started to get bad when they kept taking it farther and farther. The cross, the beatings...I don’t know what would have happened if that vampire had come and chased us off.”
Steve grabbed the boy’s shoulders. “Their plan was to kill me. The only reason Andy got off so lightly is that he ran when Eddie...” Josh frowned in confusion, “the vampire, swooped in to rescue me.”
Josh’s eyes went wide. “Shit, man! I swear I had no idea.”
“That’s what Sheriff Powell reported to Mayor Roberts,” Steve said. “That you and Chase had no idea what was going on. Both of you seemed to think it was a prank gone wrong.”
Josh nodded. “Honest, we did! We thought the hunter thing was just pretend. A macho club. I thought that it was a way to air out grievances. Talk about how wrong it was for them to be ruling our town.”
Steve cocked his head to the side. “But Powell and Roberts are both human. Until the attempt on my life this town was run by humans.”
Josh’s eyes went wider than Steve thought was possible on a human. “But I thought werewolves were traditionally the sheriff and vampires were the mayor!”
Steve stepped back. “Who told you that?”
Josh furrowed his brow. “It’s what they taught us in history, man.”
Steve raised his chin and heaved out a heavy sigh. “And this history lesson it wouldn’t happen to take place on a day most supernatural beings were out of class, say...the day after a full moon?”
Josh frowned as he thought back to all the times in history he heard about vampires and werewolves taking over the running of the town. “I don’t really remember, but I guess so.”
Steve’s second sigh was no less heavy. It looked like he was going to have to join the PTA.
“Come on,” he said. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the pack.”
Hopper and Joyce stayed back, but the rest rushed to meet Josh. Well, everyone but Lucas.
Lucas he already knew from basketball. The young man stood off to the side. Not hanging back like Joyce and Hopper, but not rushing to meet him either.
Lucas didn’t know how to act so he was waiting for a signal from his alpha. From his friend. From Steve.
Steve introduced the pack. The Wheelers, the Byers brothers, the Hendersons, the rest of the Sinclairs, and even Jane.
The remaining three, Joyce, Hopper, and Lucas waited to see what their alpha would do.
“In an unprecedented turn of events,” Steve said with a lopsided smile, “we have the previous alpha male and female, Jim Hopper, you know, and Joyce Byers.”
Josh cocked his head to the side. “Awk-ward.”
Steve laughed. And even Joyce couldn’t quite hide her smile.
Josh looked around. “I don’t see anything that I could do for you guys,” he said honestly.
Steve turned to three members of the pack that he hadn’t introduced yet. “This Tommy Hagen, Carol Perkins, and Robin Buckley. They’re keepers. What they do for the pack is what you’ll be learning how to do the time you’re here.”
Josh looked at the three older teenagers skeptically. “What can they do?”
Steve grinned. “Mortal families looking for prestige will send their sons or daughters to the pack to become keepers. They aren’t werewolves, they can’t change at will or in the light of the full moon, but they are stronger, faster, and more agile then your average human.”
“More durable too!” Robin said excitedly. “I haven’t broken a single bone since I became a keeper. It’s so cool!”
Josh frowned. “Do you guys remain keepers until you die or what happens?”
Tommy and Carol shared a glance, before Carol said, “You can stay a keeper all your life, you live longer than the average human, but not as long as a werewolf. Or you can go back to being human when you leave the pack to go to college or whatever. It looks killer on any resumé or application.”
“Or...” Tommy said, “you can ask to be made a werewolf. The alpha can always say no, but you can always ask. And even if the alpha does say yes, it doesn’t mean that it’ll take. But it’s not as though you’ll be maimed or killed if it doesn’t. So some people take the risk.”
“Today,” Steve said, gently steering the conversation away from transformations, “you’ll help Carol get supplies and she’ll show you where they’re put.”
“Shopping run?” Josh asked. Carol nodded. “Hell yeah. Count me in.”
Steve laughed at his enthusiasm. “Don’t say that or you’ll become her shopping buddy for life.”
Carol grinned wolfishly, but Josh just grinned back.
Josh ran off with Carol and they were chatting like old friends.
Nancy came up behind Steve and put her arm around his waist. “This was a really good idea. He gets to see how much we are the same and how special we are without all the negative mind dump the general public feeds him.”
Steve hummed. “I’m concerned about some of the things he was telling me on the way in about how negative the portrayal of us is. I need to talk to Wayne, but since he’s busy with Jason and Patrick, Eddie will have to do.”
Nancy poked his ribs and he squirmed.
“You just want to see your boyfriend,” she teased.
Steve kissed the top of her head. “Guilty as charged. But it is important I talk to him and Wayne about what Josh said. Hold down the fort for me?”
“Always.”
He gave her a hug and shifted, running for the direction of Forest Hills Trailer Park.
****
Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @bookbinderbitch @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @redfreckledwolf @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @goosesister @tinyplanet95 @anaibis @she-collects-smut @irregular-child
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natriae · 10 months
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bonus #3
masterlist
1.8 words
angst to comfort
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eight years after the end of another chance
Japan
Walking out of the small Japanese home that rested on the far side of Miyagi was a tall young man with long, straight olive hair. He had it cut in a slight mullet shape, but his mom insisted he got it so it wasn't completely a mullet. She called it a fancy mullet. His hair stuck up in several different directions while his purple and white uniform hugged his lanky body. Behind him ran out a four year old girl in a similar purple uniform, but with a small patch that read the kanji of 'Shiratorizawa pre-k" she had just kissed her parents goodbye and attempted to catch up to her older brother. However, before she could fall onto the sidewalk the taller man reached down and grabbed her just as she tripped over her own shoes.
"You need to be careful," Isa scolded the little girl. His voice now deep and gruff like his father's making it very easy for people to mistake him as Sakura's dad over the phone. He moved the little girl so she rested on his hip as he continued to walk the two of them to school. Her arms wrapped around the neck of her knight as she leaned her head down on his shoulder. Isamu was far too used to the neighborhood moms watching him be a caring brother and walk his sister to and from school, and had he been a normal teenage boy he probably would have tried to play with their hearts more and have his own personal MILF, but he had no interest.
School was over and he repeated the same routine making sure to buy his sister a small snack from the convenience store. She had chased him down the hill, tripping, but not falling flat on her face because her big brother was there to catch her. Most of these days he felt that taking care of Sakura was the only thing he was good at. His whole life he had felt like a bit of a disappointment even though his parents spent every second of their lives making sure that he felt like the most important person in the world. He just didn't quite understand. He had so many secrets he's been hiding from them. Would they treat him the same if he told them?
"Ani! I found your favorite!" Sakura shouted, trying to shove the drink in his hand. Had he been paying attention earlier he would have noticed the little girl trying to climb up the freezer shelves to grab the drink. The glass door swinging back, hitting her bum and knocking her back down. Isa giggled at the little girl thinking about how she's a mini you. Grabbing the drink from her he paid for their snacks and continued heading home. His heart calmed down as he held his sister's hand. She loved everything and anyone no matter what. At least if he didn't have his parent's love anymore he'd have hers.
"Tadima," the two children shouted as they walked into the house. Their parents, per usual, were wrapped up in each other's arms on the couch. Isa had dismissed them and walked into his room while the little ball of sunshine ran and jumped into both of her parents wanting to cuddle too.
" Sakura baby was Isa-nii being odd while you walked home today?" you questioned the small girl as you brushed some of her olive hair out of her face.
"ani is always weird," She responded while leaving a kiss on her papa's forehead. Since Wakatoshi has been retired she makes sure to leave a kiss somewhere on his face because she was told that only old people retire. She's worried that her daddy is getting old and won't be with her anymore even though you tell her time and time again that her papa is only 37 and her grandpa is close to probably 70. You continued to pet her hair as she began to fall asleep for her afternoon nap on her dad's chest. You glanced at Wakatoshi then Isa's bedroom door a few times until he finally got the hint. No matter how long the two of you have been parents it will always take a moment for his brain to load the data you're supplying him.
Once Wakatoshi put Sakura down he came out to see you knocking on Isa's door. From behind the sliding door you heard a small 'come in' from your more than normally grumpy son. His room was minimalist, but he still had it decorated with volleyball accessories. His prize possession being his dad's Olympic gold medal. He wanted it framed so that it would push him to work hard for his dreams just like his dad. Sliding the door just enough to pop your head in, you faced the young man sitting on his bed and asked, "can your dad and I come in."
The young man nodded his head as he remained reading some random manga about volleyball. 'Haikyuu' who would name a manga 'volleyball'? silly is all you thought. Walking in you took a seat on his bed and leaned your head on his shoulder. While Wakatoshi took a seat at his desk. You could tell he was uncomfortable by the situation. You would have been too. Both of his parents just slowly came into his room. They even knocked on his door and waited. If this was a normal day you would have knocked and then busted right in. Isa looked up at his father trying to piece together the situation as much as possible. But it was a lost cause because his dad seemed just as nervous as he was. Deciding to break the ice Isamu was the first to speak up, "what do you guys want?" He scrunched his eyebrows, turning his head to look at his mom. Clearly his dad didn't quite know what he was searching for.
"Okay, rude, but I'll let it slide. Your dad and I are worried about you,"
"dad seems confused,"
"oookay, I'm worried about you, but I promise you your dad is too, but I don't think he realizes we're talking about it right now," Your wakatoshi wasn't dumb per se but clearly the little man in his brain would shred any information label 'family problem'. It didn't matter how much he talked it through with his therapist; it was a defense mechanism.
Isa sat up a bit making you lift your head off his shoulder. He set his book down and attempted to read your mind. He saw your shoulders fall and your eyes glance over at his father. You were sad it wasn't hard to tell and it hurt him too. The last thing he ever wants is to see his mom sad "Isa baby, I'm just…," you took a deep breath in and continued, "I'm trying to understand or find out why you've been so distant lately. You haven't been looking happy lately…like more than normal." He watched as you fiddled with your fingers and your eyes scanned his whole face. This was really hurting you and he felt the tears prick at his eyes and the lump build up in his throat. He glanced quickly over at his father and tried to hold in the tears. Not once has he ever seen his father cry (he was not in the room when wakatoshi held sakura for the first time) and he wanted to be just like him.
Wakatoshi watched his son in pain and the moment he saw the twitch in his eye and the tremble in his lip when he glanced over at him he knew he needed to hold him. Standing up Wakatoshi saw you glance over your shoulder to see him immediately sitting on the other side of Isa and holding him close.
It's been so many years of the two of them finally being together, so many years of Isa calling him dad and playing with him, but not once have you seen the two embrace each other as they are right now. Isa may be 18, but right now he's just the 10 year old little boy looking for his father. Your heart cracked a little when you heard the first sob exit Isa's mouth. His arms were now wrapped around Wakatoshi's torso as he cried into his chest.
Noticing the tears build up into your eyes Wakatoshi brought one of his arms out to bring you into the hug as well. Wakatoshi brought his hand up to Isa's hair and began massaging his scalp while leaving feather light kisses on his head. For a few minutes the three of you sat there holding each other while Isa let all his tears out.
Pulling back from his father Isa whispered a few words though gasps and coughs. Not being able to hear him, you whisper a small 'what was that honey' as you handed him a tissue. After blowing his nose and taking a deep breath Isa looked to the floor and let out, "I think I like boys." His tears started falling again and a small whimper was let out after his confession. Looking down you noticed his hands were shaking while holding the wet, snotty tissue. Not caring about the germs you immediately leaned in closer and wrapped your hand in his leaving a kiss on his cheek. "Do you hate me now?" your little boy asked. How could he ever think that? Brushing some of his hair out of his face you smiled the best you could and brought his head into your hands.
"baby I will love you no matter what, okay?" You said through your own small tears. He brought your hands down and held them in his as he turned slowly to his dad.
"What about you?" he asked through voice cracks and a stuffy nose.
"I have a lot of gay friends," is all Wakatoshi said, shrugging his shoulders. Isa let out a laugh as you scolded Wakatoshi for his inappropriate comment. Isa wiped some more of his tears while his parents had an eye battle over his head.
"aw shit my contact fell out," Isa broke the silence. Glancing down you couldn't help but giggle a bit seeing his contact now in the palm of his hand. He got up to go change into his glasses when his father decided he must now list all his gay friends.
"Hinata, Kageyama, your uncle Tendou-"
"Tendou's gay?" you asked, completely unaware of this basic fact you should know about your friend.
"yeah he tried palming me once to get me hard… it didn't work,"
From the bathroom you could hear Isa sing himself 'Lalala' after hearing his dad's even more inappropriate comment.
Whispering into your husband ear you asked him a serious question, "you said you didn't do anything with anyone else while we were broken up,"
"I didn't technically. I never got hard." Wakatoshi responded in full volume.
If your son's singing could get any louder he somehow managed to do it.
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tags: @mineta-phobic @rukia-uchiha-98 @ssc7514 @megumuro
i know i said only three bonus but i might just randomly update with bonuses
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go-river-flows · 1 year
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Welcome back to the Avatar Programme
Part 3 of ?
Summary: I was part of the Avatar programme. Simple as that. Then that changed after the schoolhouse incident.
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The next morning was hell. I woke up right before Ruth, staying in bed as she got ready for the day before doing the same.
“Are you linking in today?” Ruth asked as she tied up her hair.
“I don't know. It's been two years,” I announced to her, brushing my hair.
“We brought your avatar in, if you plan on linking Gerard will help you reconnect,” she tapped my hip as we exited our room, walking side by side in silence. Making our way to the bio lab, where Stevens and Terrance were cleaning out the avatar pods. I walked to the large windows, where lines of IV and leads were attached to Norm’s and now Jake’s avatar. Walking a bit further to the other side, there lay my avatar, on the gurney as the day I left it. I forgot how beautiful and tall (9ft, or 275cm) she looked. The same two beads in the braids in my avatar's hair, from Anuk. The same dark green tank top and khaki shorts, now cleaned from the blood that soaked it after carrying a dead na’vi child from two years ago. Gerard looked up from his tablet, making eye contact through the window giving a small wave. Next to the table, a pair of my old combat boots and socks tucked into them. I guess they prepared just in case I wanted to hop in. 
I walked back to Ruth who was observing the two avatars, waiting for Norm and Jake to initiate their link. After waiting five minutes, the link was successful, Norm was already up taking it steady, doing hand-eye coordination exercises. Jake sat up, rolling his legs, his smile reflecting in the windows. I realised what was about to happen. He moved to the side, getting ahead of himself, he pushed himself off the gurney, his tail swinging around excitedly as the techs were getting nervous trying to avoid being hit. I was biting on my nails watching as he stumbled a bit and turned to look at his swinging tail. As he turned I quickly made my way to the cradle room Ruth hot on my tail, hopping into an empty cradle and yelling out that I was hopping in. Ruth followed suit and initiated the link and the cradle closed.
Everything felt strange, my body felt heavier than ever. My eyes flickered adjusting to the harsh white light. Gerard at my side, testing my reflexes, I sat up trying to adjust to the difference in height. I could hear the commotion next door as I rolled my neck, arms, legs and ankles. Feeling every breath I was taking, as the Pandoran air filled my lungs. That's when I heard the door next door swing open. Standing up Gerard gestured at my shoes but I was already at the door, pushing it open to the outdoors. I walked out onto the basketball court trailing behind Norm who was stumbling on his own two feet. I helped him balance on his two long legs, Curfman and Choi stopped to watch the two of us. 
“Is that (Y/L/N)?” Choi questioned, moving out of the way as Norm and I ran after Jake. Watching people dodge the tall Na’Vi.
“Jake! We’re not supposed to be running!” Norm yelled out after him, as we were running, I chuckled steadying Norm whilst still keeping an eye on the laughing and smiling Na’Vi. 
Eventually Jake stopped, sliding to a halt at the fruit patch. Grace appeared from the Avatar compound meeting the dress wearing Avatar as Norm and I caught up. Stopping short behind. Norm being Norm, laughed and struck a pose declaring, “I am a living God!” as I facepalmed at his stupidity.
“Nice of you to join us (Y/N),” Grace smiled towards me. I looked down, my bare feet on the dirt, I took a deep breath of Pandora’s air. It had never smelt so fresh and sweet, I looked up to the large planet next to us and the moons. Needless to say, I missed this.
“Welcome back to the Avatar Programme,” Grace chirped, a small smile creeping on my face.
Part 4
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queerdeerskates · 2 years
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Skating journal: day 45
Today there are practices scheduled all day at the hockey rink, and there were people using the tennis court, so I tried out a new spot. There's a big k-8 school in my town with a running track, so I went over there to check it out. There were some other people using the track as well: an old guy on a walk, a family with bicycles, and a parent teaching their young kids to skateboard. It was a fun vibe! I really prefer skating around other people over skating alone, even if those other people aren't skating (though it's fun if they are).
The track surface was blacktop, which I hadn't skated on much, and boy was it difficult. It was so bumpy that my glasses kept vibrating, which made it a little difficult to see. It was also tough to get up any kind of speed, or to maintain it. Some areas had big cracks, which were scary - I wiped out on one of them that had grass growing in it, which is the first time I've fallen properly backwards in a while. The skater adage of "pick a cheek" came in handy and I managed to avoid hitting my tailbone. I've got a little bit of scrapeage on my thigh, but it's no biggie.
I ended up mostly skating up and down the one decent patch of asphalt where I could actually get a little bit of a flow going. It helped that that was also the one shady spot, lol. But the shade disappeared as the sun came up, and even the good stretch of floor was pretty tough to skate on. I didn't stay very long. It was still a good time, though. One of the kids in the bike family got their training wheels off while I was there, which was fun to watch.
I had big plans for skill drills today, but I decided not to try on the scary blacktop. What I had wanted to do was drill forward and backwards transitions, backwards skating, and scissors, and start working on T-stops and maybe dribbling. I did work on scissors a tiny bit, but mostly I was focused on being able to skate at all on the blacktop. I'm hopeful I'll be able to do all those drills soon, though. Looking at this skill tree that someone on Reddit made, I realized I've got most of the level 1 and level 2 skills down, and some of the level 3 skills as well. I'm not interested in cannonballs because of my fucked up knees, so T-stops, backwards skating, and moonwalking (I think that's the same as dribbling? People seem to use the terms interchangeably, but I feel like I've also seen people say they're different...) are my next skills to master. Carving is also listed here, and I'm not sure if the person who made this list means on flat ground or on a ramp. I'll have to do some research and figure out what they might mean.
I think the track is a bit of a bust - or at least, I'll only go there if I want to practice skating on challenging terrain - but I've still got some ideas for skate spots. the school itself has some covered outdoor walkways that might be good for drills. And there are a couple other places in town I can try out. I kind of with my town had more of an urban skating culture. From what I can tell, most of the skaters around who coordinate with each other are mainly park skaters. I really want to be a park skater someday, but I wish it were easier to find skating friends for flat ground & to explore with. I'm also hoping there will be more rink hours open once school starts again...
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liinos · 4 years
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walking outside in the winter here is just *breaks ankles*
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y0ur-h0nor · 3 years
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Hey! I wanted to know if you could do a romantic Philza x male! raven reader, and the reader is tad bit more raven like than human. So he's a bit bigger than Phil cause ravens are a known to be bigger than crows. And maybe he tends to collect shiny objects or "borrows" Technoblades gold objects on occasion and gifts them to Phil. And one day visits Phil and wants to gift him another gift but on the journey getting said gift he got real hurt and Phil aids him back to health. Idk I want fluff.
Bit's and Trinkets|| Philza x Male! Reader
Male! Reader
|| Please do not steal my work, I work hard in writing them so I appreciate you do not go around stealing my work and claim it as yours||
<3 Philza really appreciate's the little things you do for him, the little notes you'd leave for him or around his house, he appreciates you message him asking if he's been taking care of himself and eating and resting well.
<3 The size difference between the two of you is just alright between the two of you, like the both you don't care, as long the both of are able to cuddle in bed and hug each other everything is fine.
<3 Philxa likes how you bend down a bit so you could kiss him on the cheek or lips, Philza has a love and hate relationship with you carrying him, at times he likes it but there are times he'll be caught off guard and then just hit your head because he thought you were an enemy of his, but he does love you showing him off whilst you carry him, it's embarassing for sure but you praising him just makes his heart swell.
<3 The two of you going on flights together before his wing got injured, and after his wing getting injured you'd take him on flights, he loves when you take him on flights like on night and just watch the stars together, same goes for when the both of you are just down on the ground, often star gazing and eating together.
<3 Your clothes kind are a bit baggy on him since your taller and such.
<3Philza and you just being very bubbly towards each other.
"Look at him, that's the love of my life right there." Philza would say as you slay people with your sword and getting blood on you and Techno just smiling at how sweet the two of you are.
"Ah, sorry I have to go now, My love is here." You say to Ranboo as you speed towards Philza catching him in a hug.
<3 PDA IS JUST SO MUCH, YOU GUYS ARE NOT AFRAID TO SHOW HOW MUCH YOU LOVE EACH OTHER.
<3 *sobs* Pet names like: Darling, Sweetheart, Love, Dearest, Beloved.
<3 When Techno sees that there's some gold og his are missing he knows you've been snooping in his stuff and giving them to Phil.
<3 Phil has a box where he places the little objects you give him, and since Phil doesn't want to be just on the receiving end of the relationship he goes to see what he could give you but that back tracked and now you're here patching him up.
<3 He's pouting cause he wasn't able to give you anything but you just kiss and assure him that it was okay, and you didn't need anything in return.
"I'd conquer and give the whole world to you if it means you would stay by my side."
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OMG THAT LAST SENTENCE I WROTE I'M SO SMOOTH, anyways anon I hope you like this, sorry I was so late in doing this<3
Anyways, if you guys like this and want more content like this consider following? ;)
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fvrxdrm · 3 years
Text
5 Times
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Pairing: Damnation!Leon Kennedy x Reader
Warning(s): None
*****
4 times Leon didn't confess his love and 1 time he did.
One
It was the giggles that sailed upon your boat, the laughter, the smiles. You both saw the funny in everything and that was your bond. You could be serious too; you loved deeply of others more than what was generally accepted. So you guessed the humor was how you let out the tension that kind of love brings. In those silly moments you were perfect, and they were the sweetness you needed in rough times. That's what friends do, right? It's the love that makes doors in emotional brick walls, the love that makes everything possible.
That's what Leon always thought. It was so cordial and unique in a way that he felt like what he valued so much was somehow outlandish and alien. He couldn't distinguish what comes out of him whenever you were with him and every tingle that raises hills on his skin was a puzzle he was unable to solve.
"I'll see you around," you mumbled against his chest.
"Yep." Leon unwrapped his arms around you albeit slowly, reluctant for some reason, and smiled through his pursed lips. "I'll see you around."
He watched as you wended your way from his house and into your home, a teasing tug pulling his lips at the ghost of your own against his cheek.
Two
Under the dim lights and the colorful ornamentations, your raiment sparkled against the gleam, catching the eye of many guests, predominantly Leon. You looked like a princess wearing a headband that imitated a crown, a top and a pair of pants embellished with a winking glint that could be mistaken as diamonds from afar, and heeled leather boots that comically made you look tall. Your hair was in a loose and messy braid with a few strands hanging just beside your face and a light chain that twisted along your H/L H/C locks.
Leon was in awe, no doubt. His focus was glued to your appearance. Even when his friends were making random conversations with him, he found it unbearably hard to keep his icy blues away from you.
"You should just ask her out, you know. You've been staring at her with heart eyes the entire night," Chris spoke as he followed the trail of Leon's gaze towards you.
Leon broke away from his stupor and shook his head at the man's voice, his blood rushing towards his neck and face.
"What? No, no. You're mistaken. I-I don't like her like that."
"You sure? Last time we were drunk you were yelling about how much you love her right into my ear."
"We were drunk, Chris."
"And? What's that saying again? A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts?" Chris simpered as Leon's eyes widened in surprise.
"What? Th-that's not true!" He denied.
"Mhm, sure. Anyway, my girlfriend's probably looking for me now," the taller and bulkier man said. "At least ask her to dance."
As Chris' footsteps faded away into the beat of the music, Leon thought about what he had said.
Did he actually like her, or was it just something he was confusing himself with? Either way, you were still a treasured dear to him and whether or not his heart was romantically beating for you, he would still value you the same, although he would probably be a bit clingier if you did end up together.
For now, he'll just ask you for a dance, go with the flow, and see what happens.
Three
The night rode in on a horse of pure midnight velvet, beckoned by the stars under the glow of a full moon. As the colors of the day rested, perhaps dreamt of the morrow, the forest became its monochrome beauty, darkened greens and golds that made an ever-changing, ever-present puzzle, question and answer united.
Fire danced beside you as you and Leon laid against under the constellation of stars and talked the night away, smiling and laughing at every jest that was told.
It felt pleasant to be in his arms and he felt warmth as a wild heart beat in his bars.
"This one," you began, leading his fingers towards a raised and silvery part of your skin, "I got this when I was younger. I got stabbed by a pencil."
"A pencil?"
"Yeah. My friend and I got into a fight and it was buried, like, 3-fucking-inches inside of me. And holy shit, my teacher didn't fucking notice it while I was bleeding profusely. I was leaking hamburger helper!"
Leon busted a gut and pulled you towards him even more as he shook in laughter.
You went on and on about the most absurd things that had happen during your childhood until you lost all energy and eventually fell asleep in Leon's arms.
You looked peaceful, he thought. Your face was so serene as if nothing had really affected you in any way. The world was cruel, but you only sought for the brighter side and stood along it with your back turned to the hell it truly bore. Your lips were parted lightly, and hair just a tad bit messy from all the exaggerated movements you'd done while telling your stories and tossing your head back while laughing. A part of your skin was showing as your top rode up, and he couldn't the blush that crawled up to his face when realized his hand was rested on that patch of skin.
He smiled.
Maybe he did like you, or love you. If his admiration wasn't enough, then his heart reassured him.
Four
"Oh, fuck!"
You swam away from Leon as fast as your arms and legs could fight against the water as he chased you, muscles and quads aiding him. Compared to you, he was more skilled in this type of stuff while you had chicken legs with barely anything of assistance. So it was no surprise when he caught up to you with spider hands and wrapped his arms around your waist. He tickled your stomach, the bareness of it making the stimulation all the more patent and making you guffaw while squirming in his arms.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" You cried in between laughter. You turned around to face him when you felt his hands making a stop against the side of torso and looked at the wonders of his eyes steadily and intensely.
You didn't notice it, but Leon's breath hitched at the proximity of your faces, the hot air that flew out of your nose hitting the droplets on his face. You were in a daze. Both of you. It felt so intimate and bona fide that for a second that was your only reality.
Your fingers trailed up his chest, neck, and finally his cheek, and for a moment, your hand was still on his face with only your thumb moving to stroke the scar that was stripped away from his hair. Leon furrowed his brows. The inside of your lip was lightly bitten as you thought about your next action for a moment. But decided that fuck it, life is short. If he felt the same way than congrats! But if he didn't, well, it's either he'll pull away or kiss back with no purpose. And hey, what's the matter with making out with your best friend?
And so, you drew a bit closer, albeit rather slowly in case Leon wanted to pull away. But seeing as he was copying your motions, you saw his intention and pressed your lips against his in a shy lip-lock.
Five
Leon tugged on his tie as he looked at the people dancing around inside of the venue, his heart doing a little dance of its own when he saw you smiling with the crowd.
He blew a sigh, the breeze intertwining with the air. He could see the party from the balcony: flashes of different color schemes, the swaying of dresses as the women moved, the chattering of people as they drank the glasses of champagne. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe this was all about you and him; two souls entwined by love.
"I see you didn't invite me," a sultry and velvety voice said from beside him. He knew who it was and it didn't faze him anymore to see her appearing uninvited as she always did.
"What are you doing here, Ada?"
"What, I can't go see two of my favorite people anymore?"
"Well, it always ended in a mess, anyway, so what's the point." Ada chuckled in response and leaned back against the railing, the smile her giggling left still ghosting on her face. It was all jokes, fun, and games to her for a moment until she turned serious and gazed at you from a distance where you couldn't notice.
"Take care of each other, Leon. You both are worth more than what you give yourselves credit for," she muttered. "I wish I could've given her the life you're giving to her now. But I can't, and I'll remain like this until I die."
In the depths of her mind, Ada reminisced on the time when she was in Leon's position. She gave the love you needed and wanted, and cared for you in so many ways. But she was a mercenary, a wanted one at that, and she knew that one day, everything would be thrown into a void or burned until it turned to ashes. So, she broke what you had off and handed you to Leon where he could give you a better life.
Leon couldn't say anything. It seemed rude and odd but he remembered when you knocked on his door, drenched in rain water and sobbing everything from your chest. It hurt to see you like that. And so, he promised. He promised to be the best husband he could ever be and shower you with everything he could give you.
"Leon!" Your voice rang out as you ran towards him with a wide smile on your face, startling the both of them.
Leon turned towards where Ada stood but saw that she was gone as if she was nothing but an apparition that was made by his mind.
He was befuddled for a moment, pondering about his encounter with the woman, but found his heart racing as you came closer to him.
What transpired was long forgotten and all the world could see how Leon mimicked the smile that defined the joy you brought to him. He was just happy to share such a beautiful moment with you and he optimistically wondered about what was ahead of you.
He pulled you towards him and spun you around as he battered your face with kisses, whispering 'I love you's and so many more sweet nothings against your cheeks while you laughed in his arms.
Hidden within the shadows was the raven-haired woman, imitating their smiles as she watched the intimacy from afar. She felt like her mission was done and although it hurt, she was thankful for what she'd done. Leon was going to give you the life you deserved and he was going to fill the holes she'd left.
*****
This was rushed. Lol. And I'm using my phone. How was it tho?
This was the outfit I had in mind. Feel free to change it though.
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alto-march-of-death · 3 years
Text
A Flower for You
character: Reiner Braun x f!reader
word count: 3.4k
genre: smut and fluff
synopsis: your first meeting with Reiner leads to more as the two of you get older; it all starts with a flower
warnings: they’re both virgins, fingering (f!receiving), Reiner cums early, just sweet first time things
a/n: the original plan didn’t include them both being virgins but it’s just how the story went; it had a mind of its own... also thank you to @kmorgzz​ and @ackerpotato​ for hyping me up and betaing this bad boy <3
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Reiner kicked at a rock. It went sailing through the air, landing who knows where. There was a small yelp, followed by a sniffle. Had he hit someone?
He went to investigate, following the sound of the exclamations, and saw you sitting there. There was a scrape on your knee, a bit of blood running down the skin. Your hands looked raw too, the skin a very angry color. He knelt beside you, making sure you could see him before he did, trying not to scare you.
You hastily wiped at your tears, mustering up a look that you hoped screamed “don’t talk to me” or “leave me alone”. If it did, the boy doesn’t listen, instead pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood from your knee.
“What are you doing?” you ask quietly. “You’re going to ruin that.” He looks up at you, doesn’t respond, and continues to wipe your knee clean. Once he’s done, you take the cloth from him. “Let me wash it for you, and give it back. What’s your name?”
He stands, dusting his clean trousers off, then holds his hand out to you. “Reiner. Reiner Braun.”
You take his offered hand, letting him tug you to your feet. “Well, Reiner, thank you for your help. You’re a warrior candidate?” He nods. “I’m sure you’ll make a great warrior.”
Reiner watches you go, wondering how you’ll find him to even give him the handkerchief back. That was his favorite one, too. He’d better get it back.
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A few days later, Reiner is walking home, the sky above him dark. There’s a commotion up ahead, a few kids his age fighting in the street. It’s not my business, he tells himself. Keep your head down and keep walking. Don’t ruin your chances of being a warrior.
As he passes by, he catches sight of you. The scrape on your knee is healed, but now you’ve got a blossoming bruise on your cheek, your knuckles are cut open, and the boy on the other end of your fist has a bloody nose. 
The group catches sight of him, scattering when they see his armband. A couple of them spit at your feet before turning tail to run. Reiner turns to you, preparing to offer his handkerchief. You hold your hand up to stop him, pulling the one he’d given you at your last meeting out of your pocket.
“Fancy seeing you again,” you mumble, handing his now clean handkerchief to him. He pockets the now clean one, using his other to dab at your knuckles. You let him, defeated that he’s cleaned you up twice now. “Would you like to know why I’m bleeding every time you see me?” He glances up at you, then back down as he gently cleans your hands. “They make fun of my brother. He can’t help that he’s different, and he can’t stand up for himself. I know it hurts hearing people say awful things about you, so I… fight them on his behalf.”
Reiner hums, giving you your hand back once it’s clean; raw, maybe, but clean nonetheless. “You’d make a good warrior candidate too.” It stuns you, his admission. His cheeks turn pink, and he motions for you to stay where you are, and picks a flower from a patch of nearby grass. Technically, it’s a weed, but it looks like a flower, and that’s good enough for him. He gives it to you, placing it in the hand with the bloodied knuckles. “For you. Keep standing up for your brother.”
You watch him go, standing in the middle of the street until he’s only a dot at the end of the road. Your eyes trail down to the flower, a small smile on your lips.
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The next time you see Reiner, he’s inherited the Armored Titan, and he’s preparing to go to Paradis. He finds you again, though this time, it’s different than the last two times he’s found you.
You’d heard that there was a boy, a warrior boy, the one who had inherited the Armored, knocking on doors, looking for a girl who matched your description and had a little brother. The majority of people were kind, telling him that she didn’t live here, and he’d go on to the next door, repeating the process. There were so many people here, and word tended to spread fast, so he was hoping to find you before he had to leave.
A knock on the door could be heard. Your brother, the one you always stood up for, answered the door. You stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder. On the other side of the door stood Reiner. He was holding a few flowers, ones like the one he had given you in the middle of the street those couple of years ago.
Reiner hands them to you wordlessly, a small hint of blush coloring his cheeks. “These are for you,” he mumbles. “I wanted to give them to you before I left. I know I’ll come back, but just in case I didn’t, I…” He trails off, noticing your brother in front of you, holding onto your skirt. Reiner squats down, much like he did the first time you met him, and smiles. “You’ve got a great sister.”
Your brother doesn’t speak, staring at Reiner as if he’d grown another head. “He’s mute,” you say quietly. “Hasn’t spoken a word since he was born.”
Reiner hums, then stands. “I still stand by what I said. He has a great sister. Can I visit you when I get back?”
You nod, smiling at him, your cheeks flushed at his question. Your brother tugs at your skirt, signaling you in his own way that he’d like to go inside. Nervously, and unsure, you wave goodbye to Reiner. He turns, hands in his pockets, and you close the door. 
The flowers are in your hands, a bit wilted from how long they had been in his slightly sweaty palm. You grab a glass from the kitchen and put them in water anyway. The last one finally wilts completely on the day Reiner leaves for Paradis.
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Reiner comes back from Paradis today. You wait in the streets to see him, just like everyone else. He looks different, though you suppose anyone would. Sure, he’s changed physically, but there’s also a hardness in his eyes, one that wasn’t there when he’d left.
His eyes scan over people, landing on his family. You wait patiently, waiting your turn for him to find you. Of course he’d find his family first, they’re his family. A few moments pass, and you see him excuse himself and begin searching again.
You look up, and his eyes meet yours. Your shoulders visibly relax when he stands in front of you. He’s taller, taller now that he’s in front of you, and you look up at him. In your hand are some flowers, which you offer to him. He takes them, a small twitch in his lips as he does.
He offers you his elbow, and the two of you walk. There’s no particular destination in mind, just the plan to walk. You tell him what you’ve done while he’s been gone, and he tells you what he can about his time away.
You give his arm a gentle squeeze when he talks of Bertholdt, and again when he talks about the time he returned here, but didn’t have the time or option to really visit anyone. “It’s okay,” you tell him, “I understand.”
“There was a girl I met while I was there,” he had said. Your heart gave a painful squeeze. “She reminded me of you,” he added. Your heart gave another squeeze, this one fluttery and light at the thought that he had been thinking of you while he was gone.
The two of you walk until the sun sets. You don’t even have to lead him to your home; he remembers the way from all those years ago when he’d gone door-to-door trying to find the girl with your description who had a little brother.
When the two of you arrive, he waits on the stoop in front of your home, hands behind his back. While you had been unlocking the door, he had picked a flower from nearby. You turn to him, and he tucks the flower behind your ear, adjusting it so that it can be seen when he looks at you.
He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
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The days, weeks, and months following, the look that Reiner returned with never goes away. A birthday comes and goes for the both of you, turning another year older, but this time together for the first time since he’s left.
Each day he sees you, he brings a flower. You jokingly told him the ones he used to bring were weeds, and now he brings you real and true flowers. They sit on the desk in your room, the fragrance they give off leaving your room smelling like a flower shop.
“I’ll love you until the last one dies,” he says nonchalantly. “It’s why I bring you one every day, that way you always have one that’s alive.” It makes your heart do that funny thing again, and his as well, though his is more so because he’s afraid you’ll laugh or something. He’d prefer not to lose you, one of the good and pure things in his dark life.
And now, the two of you sit on the couch, your feet in his lap while the two of you read your own books. He holds his book and turns his pages in one hand, the other resting on your leg, fingers trailing up and down your shin.
You’ve read the same paragraph once, twice, another time… His rough and calloused fingers on your skin are making it hard to concentrate on what you’re reading. 
A quiet huff pushes past your lips, and he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“You’re distracting me. I’ve read about Clarisse speaking to Guy six times and I still couldn’t tell you what she said.” He chuckles, and you press your toes into his side. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing, nothing.” He trails his hand higher, ticklish touches hitting your knee now. “What about now? Am I still being distracting?”
You swallow, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Is he… teasing you? He is. He’s teasing you. Reiner Braun, stoic warrior that he is, is teasing you. He cracks a small smile, just the corner of his mouth curving upward. Truly, he was nervous. He wanted to do… things… with you, but he was worried you wouldn’t want that. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but you seemed to be getting flustered by it, and not freaked out. So, he continues, giving your leg a yank to pull you down towards him.
You gasp, situating your legs on either side of his lap, hands wrapping around his neck. “This is new,” you murmur. “Very demanding. Not that I mind,” you add quickly. “I’m just surprised is all.”
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. Sometimes kissing you just isn’t enough, and I want a bit more. Is that okay? You can always tell me to stop.” You nod, fingers running through the hair at this nape. “Okay,” he whispers.
Reiner leans forward, pressing soft kisses along your jaw and neck. It tickles slightly, and even more so when the hair on his jaw scratches at your skin. Your head tilts the opposite way, allowing him some room to work with. His lips find your collarbone, and you shiver, the feeling foreign, but good.
He looks up at you, large fingers finding the buttons of your blouse, his eyes asking for permission. You lay your hands over the top of his, undoing the first button for him, and he takes over from there. The blouse leaves your body, slid off of your shoulders and down your arms. Reiner reaches behind you, finding the clasp of your bra before that is removed from your body too.
His fingers trail over your exposed breasts curiously, the rough pads of his fingers raising goosebumps on your flesh. His thumb catches your nipple, watching it harden once his finger is gone.
You let out a soft sigh, and he looks up at you. “You’re beautiful,” he states plainly. “I want to see all of you.” And see all of you he does. He stands, setting you down on your feet. Your arms go to cover yourself, but he places his hands on your shoulders, running his hands down your arms until he can take hold of your hands to kiss the palms.
You rest your hands lightly on his shoulders as he undoes the zipper on the side of your skirt. He lets it hit the floor, large hands tracing your sides before resting on your hips. His fingers skim the waistband of your panties, the ugly cotton ones you wear when you desperately need to do laundry but try to put it off another day.
It would make you embarrassed if Reiner wasn’t looking at you the way he was. It was a look that you couldn’t really describe, but one that made you think he wanted you, and not in the way he already had you, but in the ways he hadn’t. It makes you press your thighs together, toes curling into the rug beneath your feet.
Reiner breathes out a soft sigh, ghosting his fingers over your skin. It’s then that he realizes he’s still fully clothed, and takes your hands in his, placing them on his shirt. He kisses you gently, and you take over from there, pulling his shirt up and over, tossing it aside.
You fumble with his belt, hands shaking slightly. He kisses your hair, mumbling quietly, “S’okay. You don’t have to be nervous. It’s only me.” A shaky inhale, then the relaxing of your fingers. They’re no longer shaking, which is good, and his belt jingles as you go to undo the button of his pants. They drop to the floor, and his boxers along with it.
Reiner stands in front of you now, and you knew he’d be big; it was something you’d thought about frequently, but he’s big. It makes your mouth water, and you reach out, gently touching his cock where it sits half-hard against his thigh.
He sucks in a breath, head tipping back at the soft touch. He realizes that the both of you are still standing, and pushes you towards the couch. Ideally, he’d wanted his first time with you to be on a bed, but it’s too far away, and he wants you now, so the couch will have to do.
Your calves hit the couch, and you fall onto it. Reiner turns you so that you can lay down, takes your legs, and situates them on the couch so that he can sit between them. His gaze travels down your body, locking on to the way your pussy is already slick and wet. He rubs one thick finger through your folds, biting his lip at the way it just slides through.
“You’re so wet already… Is that just from me?” His eyes sparkle, cheeks slightly pink at the fact that you’re wet, and this wet, just for him. “You’ll let me get you ready, won’t you? I don’t want to hurt you.”
You nod, caressing his cheek. ��I’ve waited this long, I think I can wait a little longer.” He swallows, and you smile up at him. “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me,” you tell him, echoing his sentiment from earlier. “Is this… your first time too?”
Reiner’s head snaps up to meet your gaze, and he gives you one swift nod. “It is. I was hoping you’d wait for me, and I’m glad you did. I…” He trails off for a moment. “I asked someone about the proper way to do things. I know it may not be perfect the first time, but I want you to feel as good as possible.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips as he gently inserts one finger into your fluttering hole. It’s much warmer than he had expected, and he finds himself panting into your open mouth, rutting against your thigh. “Is this okay?” he grunts into your mouth.
You grab onto his wrist, pushing his finger a bit further inside of you, a quiet whimper falling from your lips. “Yes, more please. And you can--can add another finger.” He nods, adding another finger in once he pulls the first out to the tip. The stretch makes you gurgle out a squeak, and you murmur reassuring words to him, letting him know you’re okay.
“Let me know if you need something else, or need me to do something. You know your body better than I do.” He blushes, the arm he’s holding himself up on flexed tight, his hips seeking friction against your thigh. “What would make you feel good?”
So, you teach him what you like; curl his fingers just a little, use his thumb to circle your clit, but not too harshly, and not too rough. Soon, your hips are bucking up into his hand, and you claw at his back, head tossed back. With a cry of his name, you cum, walls of your pussy fluttering around his fingers. 
His eyes widen, and he’s so enthralled that he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, thumb still circling your clit, and fingers lightly pushing in and out of your sopping wet pussy. He’s only stopped by your breathy plea, and a grab at his wrist. “Reiner, s’too much,” you mumble. “Give me a second and then… we can keep going.”
He pulls his fingers from you, watching the strings of your slick web between his fingers, then split and break. Without a second thought, he puts his fingers into his mouth, moaning quietly at the taste of you. You watch him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, a shiver going up your spine as you do.
Once his fingers are clean, he rests his hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles into the skin there. He glances down, seeing how red and angry his cock looks, and he gasps when your fingers wrap around just below his head.
His body moves forward, the head of him pressing against your entrance. He pushes in slowly, choking on a moan as he does so. You grip his forearms tightly. The stretch burns, bordering on painful despite the bit of prep he had given you.
Reiner stops once he makes it in to the hilt, chest heaving. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he inhales deeply before opening them to look at you. The way you’re squeezing him has every muscle in his body burning, and he’s glad he let you have one orgasm, because he surely wouldn’t be able to hold back long enough to give you another. 
A strangled “Move” flies from your lips, and Reiner’s hips begin moving. He lets out a grunt, and a moan. Embarrassingly, his hips begin to stutter after a handful of thrusts, and he lays his head on your shoulder as he cums.
He stills then, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t last long. We can… work on that.” Reiner blushes, tracing your jaw. “Was it okay?”
You nod, pulling him down on top of your body, fingers trailing up and down his back. “The first time isn’t ever great I’ve heard, but as far as first times go, I think this one was pretty good. You took really good care of me. Thank you, Reiner.”
He hums, kissing your forehead. Then, he reaches down to where his jeans lay on the floor, and pulls a small flower from his pocket. He places it behind your ear. It’s a little wilted, but it lays against your head limply, and he smiles. “Just as lovely as the first time I gave you one.”
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tags: @bloobell @sweetberi @ivsahi @lovesakusa @needs-serotonin
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andilovetowrite · 3 years
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Controlled Freakiness (P.P x Reader)
Peter Parker x Stark!Reader
This can be read as a continuation of Initial Shyness, or as a stand-alone.
Summary: Confessions are cute, right? Especially when you have been waiting for years to say it out loud. But what happens when the initial shyness wears off? And we all know Peter isn’t as innocent as he seems ;)
Warnings: Mention of blood and knives. Also some suggestiveness and making out. Nothing too graphic though. A couple of bad words here and there as well.
Word Count: 3.4k
Based on a request, you can find it here!
Here is my Masterlist in case you want to find more of my work :)
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If someone told you that one day, you and Peter Parker would be caught making out in your bedroom, you would’ve laughed at them. But...as it turns out, they wouldn’t have been too wrong about that.
Let’s go back to about five months ago, on the rooftop of Peter’s apartment, where he had met you with a bouquet of red roses and an even redder face …
5 months ago
“Why-why would yo-is this-u” you tried to speak, with little success. You could feel your face heat up in embarrassment, so you just stared at the flowers in Peter’s hands.
“I-uh really, um like you Y/N. Like more than an a-a friend. And much more than a best friend. I know yo-you may not like me back, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer-”
You know it’s rude to interrupt someone when they are speaking. But you couldn’t hear any other word come out of his mouth because otherwise, you would’ve melted. So you did the next best thing. You kissed him. Hard.
His words got caught in his throat as his lips met yours. And for a second, you were worried you went too far, pulling back. But as soon as he felt you doing that, his hands went to your hair, pulling you flush against him, kissing you back with fervour.
You wish you could’ve stopped time. Right there. During a beautiful sunset, on the roof surrounded by rose petals, and with Peter in your arms. And in your mouth. But sadly, you needed air to breathe, so you pulled away, probably looking like a fish straight out of the water. Opening your eyes, you could see Peter’s face. His pupils were dilated, and his entire face was a pink hue. His lips were plump and red but pulled up in a lovesick smile.
You knew you had the same expression on your face. Smiling softly, you looked at Peter, and at the same time, you both said.
“I really like you.”
“I really like you.”
Anyway, so that was probably one of the highlights of your day, but possibly one of the happiest days in your dad’s life. His little apprentice/almost son kissed and confessed to his only daughter. It couldn’t have worked out better. No boy would ever be good enough for you, and no ordinary girl would be good enough for Peter. So naturally, he was thrilled to hear that you two were now a couple.
And that’s why you wished he didn’t have to be the first one to walk in on you and Peter. So that brought you to the infamous Saturday that was now known as the Satisfying Saturday...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------Friday, 8:00 pm, Avenger’s Compound
“Hey Y/N”, Peter called out, walking through the open window. His Spidey suit was cut loose in different places, and the minute he stepped in, his mask disappeared, showing his tired and bruised face.
“What the heck Pete?”, you shouted, jumping up from your bed. “What happened? How did I not get an alert?”
Peter looked down sheepishly, which then made you realise that he was still standing on the roof.
“Peter! Get down, and tell me what happened?!” You pointed down sternly, letting him jump on the floor, wincing as he hit his leg. Running to the first aid kit you kept in your room for times like these, you picked up some hydrogen peroxide and cotton pads, letting Peter sit down on your bed.
“So, tell me, Peter? What was it this time? You asked, dabbing the disinfectant on his face first. He flinched as you pressed it, hissing softly as the pad made contact with his skin. Shushing softly, you focused on cleaning his wounds, moving your thumb over them to soothe them.
“Y/N, you know, it wasn’t as bad-”
“Really Pete? You are bleeding like a fire hydrant. Why didn’t Karen update my dad or the tower? Or me?”
“Yeah um, about that, I disabled the Careless Boyfriend command”, he said, looking at you expectantly. You scratched your head, scoffing.
“It was a great device! Plus, who do you think makes the suits with Mr Stark?” Leaning back, you grabbed some antiseptic cream, putting it over his face. “So, you still have to tell me whose ass to kick when I go out on patrol..”
“Actually, it was-”
“Wait, let me guess...old lady with a ferocious cat, both of whom thought you were a creepy Comic-Con freak!” Laughing slightly at the pout on his face, you pressed the tiny spider on his chest, watching as the suit untightened, falling from his body effortlessly. Now, usually, his abs and glowing skin would distract you for a bit, but it was different this time. Dark red blood oozed out from deep cuts on his abdomen, falling on the bed around him. Your eyes widened as they roamed over his injuries.
“Peter! Wha- what did they use? A normal knife wouldn’t cut you like this!” Peter’s face scrunched up in pain as he remembered it, but seeing the look on your face, he grabbed your hand, nodding at you.
“It-it’s fine Y/N. Um, actually, they were using some suspicious-looking gadgets, so yo-you have to tell Mr Stark about it so-”
“No Pete, I mean, I’ll tell dad about this, but first I gotta get you to the infirmary. Holy crap…” you rambled, pulling his suit off.
“Baby, if you wanted my clothes off, you could have just said”, Peter said, smirking at you. Hitting his arm, you glared at him playfully.
“Watch it Parker. I could leave you here!”, you said, throwing the suit into the wash, mentally reminding yourself to make him a more durable suit. Grabbing him, you made him hobble out of your room. In the light of the tower, you can see how fagged out he was looking.
“Hey princes- what the heck happened to you Peter?!”, you dad asked, walking over to the two of you. Taking some of Peter’s weight, he called out to F.R.I.D.A.Y, asking her to call the nearest medics. “How did this happen, Pete?”
“Well, I think it wassss-”, Peter began, but slumped down after a couple of seconds, falling in your arms.
“Dad! What do I do?”
“It’s fine, he’ll be okay, lets just get him to the clinic, um- Steve! Help us out with Spiderboy here”
Carrying him, you got him to the doctors, watching as his wounds already started to patch themselves up. Metal gadgets ran over his body as your dad spoke to the head medic, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“What happened to him?”, you asked. It wasn’t the worst Peter had seen, but you had never seen him pass out before due to a cut.
“Um, so we are detecting some slight substances in his bloodstream, but we are working on removing it.”
“What substances?”, Tony asked, inhaling sharply.
“We aren’t sure yet, but the results should come in about a day.”, the doctor said, looking back at Peter, “As for Spiderman, he should take a couple days off.” He then looked at you. “Did Peter say anything at all about the weapons?”
You shook your head, thinking back. “Nothing much, except for that they were looking suspicious. Maybe the team can go and track back where Peter was patrolling, you know? To see if they can catch the guys who hurt him?”
Tony nodded, as he went back to the living room, probably to call all the Avengers. Trailing after him, you ran to get your suit, but was stopped halfway. “Hey, Tiny Stark, why don’t you stay with Spiderboy. To make sure he is fine?” Natasha asked, glancing at Tony as he slightly nodded his head.
“But you might need help?”
“We’ll be fine. Plus, if these are as dangerous as Peter said, then we wouldn’t want you getting injured. Best you stay here” Dejectedly saying yes, you bid them goodbye.
“Oh, and have fun with the kid. He is pretty hot, and I know you can hit that”, Nat said, winking at you.
Smiling shakily, you stepped back, watching as they left the tower, leaving only you and Peter back.
Fast forward to about 3 long hours later, Peter finally woke up, looking much better. “Y/N? What happened, where’s Mr-”
“Gone out to track down those guys, and they won’t be back till tomorrow”, you said, glancing at your comms. “Said that they were following them to the base”
Peter nodded, looking drowsy. “Can-can I please get some food?”
Smiling at him, you quickly checked if he was ready to be discharged before you got him up. A bit unsteady on his feet, Peter followed you to the living room, falling on the couch. “Whatcha want Pete? A sandwich, or some pasta?”
“Popcorn...caramel please.”
You laughed, grabbing some from the cupboard marked Movie Nights. “Really? You need protein!” Peter didn’t say anything, instead of looking at you with his famous puppy eyes as he pouted. “Fine fine! You win”
Smiling at you, he opened his arms. Hesitantly, you crawled into them, making sure not to apply pressure on his stomach. Times like these were rare. Sure, you and Peter were a couple, but PDA was little at the towers and you two were some of the shyest people when it came to displaying affection in front of people. So you relished times like these when you could just be close to Peter.
“So Peter, what movi-”
*Snore*
*Snore*
Amused, you peered back at him, your heart-melting when you saw Peter fast asleep, his arms wrapped around you and his head lolled back against the cushions. Shrugging to yourself, you quietly switched off the lights, getting up carefully, but almost immediately being pulled back.
“Petey, I gotta get up”, you whispered softly.
“Nuh uh, nope”, he said, his chocolate brown eyes sleepily staring at you, “stay here”
So you stayed. And it was one of the best nights of sleep you had ever had. Little did you know though, tomorrow would be one of the most interesting days of your life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Good morning Y/N Stark and Peter Parker. I just wanted to inform you that the furniture replacement dudes are on their way up. For Mr Parker’s identity to be kept secret, I would advise you to make your way to the individual rooms or the medbay.” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s automated voice floated through the air, waking you up.
Peter began stirring lightly from under you, making you sit up. His light brown curls sat on his forehead, falling into his eyes. He started mumbling words under his breath as he sat up, rubbing his eyes roughly.
“Ugh drool”, he muttered, wiping his mouth.
Leaning towards him, you brushed his hair out of his face. “Well, good morning to you too Mr Parker”
“Ms Stark, good morning”, Peter said, pulling you into his arms once more. Smiling, you hoped he wouldn’t see your face, as you push your face onto the couch. Pulling back just enough to see him, you leaned down to brush your lips against his, softly at first. Peter sighed into your mouth, and met back up with fevor, his hands tangling themselves in your hair. You could’ve stayed there, but Peter let go, his head still leaning against yours.
“As much as I would love to spend the rest of my day like this, w-we have to get up”, you said, hearing the guys come up the elevator, “like right now Peter!”
Jumping up, you both ran, laughing at F.R.I.D.A.Y as she tried to slow down the elevator without breaking it. “Oh and by the way, how did F.R.I.D.A.Y. learn to say, dudes?”
“Who do you think works with Mr Stark on Friday?”, Peter asked, referring to what you said yesterday to him. Which made you remember his wound.
“How’s your stomach?”, you asked, wanting to pull his shirt up and find out, but way too awkward to do it.
“It’s perfectly fine. Kinda bruised by the feels of it, but the cuts have gone..”, he said, walking back to your room. “When’s the team heading back?”
“Uh, I’m not sure actually, let me just-”, you said, calling Tony up. “Hey Dad, how’s the mission? Find anything yet?”
“Oh, hey sweetheart, uh, can’t talk right now”, Tony grunted as gunshots were heard from behind him, “but we’ll be home by tonight. How’s ugh, um Peter?”
“Oh yeah, Peter’s fine. We’ll probably just watch some movies or something. Do you need anything? Food, rations, help?”
“Esteemed Daughter, who are you talking to? I’m Iron Man, I don’t need any helppppp”, your dad yelled as the sound of metal was his before the line got cut. Peter looked at you with wide eyes, his face shocked.
“Will Mr Stark be okay?”
“Yeah, he will...probably. Nat will call in a bit anyway, so let’s just wait”, you said, jumping on your bed. Patting the place next to you, you watched as Peter shed his shirt, walking over to your bed in his grey sweatpants. Inhaling sharply, you pushed away any thoughts that were coming into your mind as Peter laid down, his arm going around you as he kissed your cheek.
God, you wish he would kiss you somewhere else.
Shaking your head, you asked, “So, which movie should we watch?”
“Um, how about...Hunger Games?”, he asked, slyly grinning at you. Damn him, he knew it was your favourite “nerd” movie. Nodding at him with a grin, you switched it on, falling back onto Peter as the movie started.
Sadly, you weren’t able to focus on the movie too much. Because you were too focused on your boyfriend next to you. Due to the fact that he was an Avenger like you, the timings for the two of you were cramped. With college, and patrolling, there were very different lifestyles the two of you led. As best friends you used to be inseparable but as a couple? Oh, it was a completely different story.
Whenever you two were alone, someone would always interrupt you. Whether it was May at Peter’s place or Ned at school, there was not a single minute the two of you could just hang out. So naturally, you two hadn’t gone to second base. Or even 1.5th place. But today, with the tower absolutely empty, you couldn’t say that your mind didn’t wander. And the clip of Katniss and Peeta making on the screen didn’t help either. So you said something you weren’t too happy about…
“Peter, I wanna jump your bones right now”
“Wha-uh, huh? Y-you wanna do wh-um, jump m-my bones...Uh, I don’t- uh what?!” Peter stuttered, his face bright red. But you were too far down that lane so you just nodded.
“Yeah dude” Peter didn’t say anything again, his eyes glassing over as he stared at you. “Fine...but couldIkissyouabitmorethanusualplease?”
“Uh ye-yeah, if if you want to?”, Peter said, his face flushed pink as he stared at you, adoration in his eyes. Smiling at him with what you hoped with an “I-wanna-make-out-with-you” look, you moved next to him, your face hovering about his. Kissing him lightly at first, it grew deep as Peter grunted softly under you, capturing your lips between his teeth. Suddenly, he grabbed you, pulling you down under him. Now he was the one over you, and when your hand went to his hair, he let out the softest of sounds. But you heard it...and god did it get a reaction out of you.
Now, if you were in your right mind, you would go and put a sock in the door, or tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to disable the elevator to your level. But you were too preoccupied with a certain someone to even bother about that. That is how this entire whole thing started.
Coming back to you and Peter making on your bed, your legs were thrown over his waist as he pulled you to him, your back hovering off the bed. Oh, the joys of having a superhero boyfriend. Anyway, just as he was about to leave your lips to trail kisses down your neck...the door opened.
You didn’t hear the door open though. What you did hear was the multitude of voices, and your dad’s one the loudest.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!”
You couldn’t blame him. It did look bad. With Peter not wearing his shirt and his back bare, it looked like he wasn’t wearing any clothes since our lower bodies were under your cover. Peter also covered you the minute he heard your dad’s voice, which further implied that you both were very very naked.
“DAD!”
“MR STARK!”
You stared at your dad, noticing now that the entire team was standing outside the door, their breaths held and eyes peering. “It-it’s not what it looks like! I promise…”
“Peter, get the hell out of my daughter”, your dad said calmly, his eyes looking everywhere else but at us.
“Dad, he isn’t i-in me. Look!”, you said, pulling the cover’s off you two to show your very covered legs.
“Fine, at least I won’t become a grandfather tonight. But why were you on my daughter Mr Parker?”
Poor Peter, he looked like he was about to faint. “Uh, Mr Stark w-we were just um, hugging? Tightly-”
“With what? Your mouths?”, Sam called out, laughing with Bucky.
“Not now Sam!” you yelled, shooting them a glare.
“Now, I don’t care what you do...but don’t you dare touch my daughter in a harmful way. Got it Parker?”
“Y-yes Mr St-Stark. I won’t, I love your daughter t-too much”
Looking at Peter, your eyes filled with love as you hugged him, kissing him softly. “Aw, I love you too Pete...even if you tried to fuck me right now!”
“WHAT?!”
“Kidding kidding. Anyway, let’s get outta here...please!”
Tony scoffed, turning around but then glanced at Peter. “Take care of your “little” problem before you come downstairs, Peter.”
“Huh? Oh…”, Peter said, hurriedly covering up himself. Giggling, you tried to go closer but were pulled back by your dad.
“Nuh-uh. He’s gonna take care of it. By. Him. Self.”
Rolling your eyes, you walked out, winking at Peter before you walked out. Catching up with the rest of the group, they all grinned at you, making you worried. “What?”, you asked, backing away slightly.
“I think we can all call this day a…”
“Satisfying Saturday!”, they all yelled out, with Natasha bumping shoulders with you and Steve shaking his head behind her.
You sighed, copying Steve. “This isn’t gonna go away, is it?”
“Nope”, Thor said, laughing loudly.
And it didn’t. But thank god they only caught you making out. The next time Peter and you were caught, it was much much worse. But that’s a story for another time.
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Ooh, that was the longest fic I’ve ever written, but boy, was it a fun one to write. Thanks so much for reading it, and if you liked this one, you can be added to the Taglist for the Caught By Them series. My requests are also open if you have any ideas, but if not, then see you next time!
BTW: Spent about 20 min trying to figure out the type of disinfectant used to treat stab wounds. That’s 20 minutes I’ll never get back, but if I ever do get into a fight, at least I’ll know what treatment to use…
Tagging some people from my last series in case they would enjoy this one :)
@idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul @loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326 @t-hollanderr @305weasley @starknik22 @marvelfansworld @lou-la-lou @lomlparker @marvelfansworld @wowitsel @vanteguccir @fullcheesecakeengineer @ladykxxx08 @allegras-sunflower @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme
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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years
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Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊
As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).
heart
Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.
mind
I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)
soul
Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)
Chapter 22
My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)
He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉
“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗
“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2)  that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)
“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢
It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!
“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...
And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!
This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉
I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh
Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!
“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅
“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh* 
Chapter 23
“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time
“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her
A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄
He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)
Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...
Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)
Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?
“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)
What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)
At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future
Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊
I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show
“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)
Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here
“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable
I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use  their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅
Chapter 24
Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏
I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.  - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!
It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.
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felassan · 3 years
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DA4 Lead Producer Scylla Costa’s BIG Festival talk, “Challenges of Dragon Age production during the pandemic”, can currently be rewatched on YouTube here starting roughly at timestamp 8:57:02 after a lil presenter blurb/intro. It’s 1 hour long. When it was streamed live, there was an English translation ‘voiceover’. There isn’t in this vid, however I want to post the link for Portuguese speakers, and also it’s neat for everyone to be able to see all the slides he presented with for themselves in context.
I don’t know if an English-language version will get put up so I’m sharing the notes I took during the talk below, in case anyone’s interested and because I might as well since I wrote them. The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.
Edit: Found a place to re-watch the English version of the talk
(Quick note: I didn’t note down everything, mostly things that caught my interest, so this isn’t exhaustive, and when I was watching I was real tired, so pls bear that in mind and don’t take these notes as bullet-proof 100% accurate gospel or direct quotes. If you watched it and think I’ve written down something wrong/misunderstood, let me know and I’ll fix. Also if you’re a Portuguese speaker and I’ve gotten something incorrect or missed something important etc, again just let me know.) **
** Edit: I’ve now gone through my notes while watching the talk again. I’ve filled in some of the gaps (although they still don’t cover everything said) and so forth, and now I’m no longer worried about there being possible errors in this post.
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For some context, this slide contained the breakdown of the talk’s structure. Bear in mind there are other slides present in the talk than the ones I’ve posted here, I didn’t include caps of all of them, just ones which were of note to me.
In the talk, chief Producer Scylla goes over challenges of DA4 production during the pandemic. He discusses the adaptations - necessary skills and learning from remote work - and he ponders on the future of teamwork.
After the launch of ME3 he became a producer, all his MMO and other experience helped a lot. He was on DAI for 3 years and MEA for 9 months, then Anthem. Today, on DA4, Scylla and another Lead Producer were the heads of the whole project, and there is his boss is the Executive Producer Christian Dailey. 
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^ the usual AAA game development cycle (brief introduction)
AAA games are games that are launched for several platforms simultaneously. 
In BioWare’s case, the pre-production phase of the game development cycle can have from 5 - 30 people, and up to almost 60 people when they’re just about to go through the gate to production. 
In the pre-production phase, they go through the game’s concepts and prototypes and start developing systems. They seek the game’s concept and focus, and its key features. They do lots of market research. In the case of BioWare, all their games are strong in narrative, so they have lots of tools related to game narratives and supporting the development of a narrative (cinematic design, dialogue system etc) that get focused on in this phase. Other parts of the team such as writers and cinematic design need these systems to do their own roles. 
In BioWare’s case, the pre-production phase through to launch can take 4 - 6 years, but it does depend on the size of the team during development.
With regards to Dragon Age 4, they were coming close to the time when they would shift from pre-production to the production stage when the pandemic hit.
During the production phase is when the development of content and features takes place, with the systems mostly already existing from the pre-production phase. A few new systems may be developed in this phase. In the production phase is when things start escalating, and the team really starts growing, to like 2- or 3-fold the prior pre-production phase size. 
(DA4 is currently in the production phase.)
In the alpha phase, features have to be fully implemented and systems all have to be running / working. All the game features should already be in the game by now. They test from pre-production onwards, but this phase is when they run heavy technical tests with lots of players trying to play at the same time. In the beta phase, the idea is that you should now have full content and that now you’re balancing it and running more and lots of different tests with players before launch. There are final tweaks and then the final launch, when in the weeks prior to launch, all the different business units and areas e.g. marketing team, technology team, publishing team, get together once a day and all of the game’s issues are reported and brought to the table to be prioritized. Then they decide the next steps re: these issues (this is known as ‘the war room’).
After the launch there are usually patches like day zero patches and other patches, this being standard industry practise. The last stage is the new content stage where there are DLCs and a game with more content.
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On March 12th 2020, the team gathered to review the DA4 story in the new office. Everyone was very excited. (They had spent over 10 years in their last building and had noticed that with the team growing they needed more space. In August 2019 they found the new studio in the city center.)
Anyway that evening, they got an email from the CEO which contained instructions and said that due to the pandemic, they should from now all start working remotely. They had known that this happening was a possibility so they had been planning on how to have all the devs working from home, but initially less than 50% of the devs were able to work from home successfully/efficiently due to various issues e.g. you need a VPN to be able to log in remotely to do your job normally, varying home office setups. The day after this, the office was basically deserted, except for Scylla, the IT infrastructure people and one or two odd devs.
Scylla was part of the team that was working on allowing the devs to work from home. They first started looking at the short-term changes they needed to make to allow this.
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“First, take care of our developers”. 
When the pandemic first hit, their and Scylla’s [as Lead Producer] first priority was to look after the devs. Many of them are parents (schools and day-cares were shut, children were studying from home), others have relatives living with them, others have other personal circumstances which of course need to be taken into account when it comes to assessing what needs to be taken into consideration for this new scenario. So, they looked at each dev on a case-by-case basis in order to evaluate, speaking to each one and asking them what they could do to support them.
One of the first changes/adaptations they could implement was flexible working hours and flexibility around deadlines. Generally speaking the devs got a lot of support, EA was really good and really supported the devs especially in the first months of the pandemic (and they are still supporting them). Initially not all devs had suitable office spaces at home, some were working from the living room from laptops or at the kitchen table. The whole covid situation basically just happened over night and nobody was really ready to deal with that change. So their first step was to enable their devs to work remotely. As a producer, Scylla’s main task is to communicate with the team such as via a number of daily meetings. He doesn’t depend so much on powerful hardware.
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“Enable developers to work remotely”.
This slide shows some of a BioWare audio team. Different teams have varying and specific needs in order to do their jobs and therefore in order to do them remotely. For example, the audio team need good-quality speakers and amplifiers, while the lighting and art teams need other specific equipment such as tablets and large screens. So there was a lot of work they had to do to go through each dev to understand their individual needs and what needed to be done for them. ‘Could they download the builds? Did they have the right performance [tech-wise]? Could they submit their changelists, their codes to the server?’
Some devs needed a more powerful internet connection as it would take 6-8 hours to download a build (some devs live rurally). Some needed a lot of cable, as they were working far away from their routers (sometimes up to 50m). As time went by things got better and better. 
The chair devs work from is also important; a kitchen able chair etc is not suitable to sit in for long-term desk work, possibly leading to health issues like back ache and blood circulation problems in the legs.
Every 3 months they had money given to help devs buy new mice, keyboards, monitors - anything they needed really in order for their office setting at home to be improved. For a while, because lots of people [generally, in society] were needing and buying them, it was quite hard to buy things like webcams and microphones.
On mid- and long-term changes:
In terms of DA, we have to look at this from 2 perspectives, the change in the personal and the professional environments. 
As a consequence of working from home, people tend to be less active during the day (even in an office, you go between meeting rooms, up and down stairs etc). Physical activity supports life quality and therefore work quality. Scylla noticed that he began to feel listless and such, and found that he needed to change his routine that he had initially developed when he started working from home, for example; having a normal start time (as in, have a semblance of structure in your day as if you were still working in the office site), get dressed at the normal time, not having meetings over lunch etc. This wasn’t just him, lots of other devs encountered this and had this experience too. Devs which adapted faster had better productivity and became more productive faster.
Scylla bought a stand-up desk which he can raise up and down, and at meetings he would be delivering a talk while standing or even while walking on a treadmill. Other devs also got stand-up desks. He tracked his body’s data on a Fitbit. These sorts of things helped improve physical and mental wellbeing. Other devs did similar things, like starting going out for jogs or began practising yoga. Essentially, everyone needed to make changes to their daily routine in comparison to what they had been doing prior to the pandemic. 
The pandemic has been a thing for over a year now. In their location, every couple of weeks a new restriction is put into place or a rule is changed, and every two weeks there’s a new thing that you can and can’t do. Scylla also started moving around his property. He worked on his desk, fixed it up and painted - taking up a new hobby. Other devs picked up new hobbies too. These are good ways to be active and also to be somewhere else, i.e. to break up the working day and not be spending it all in one home office-type location. Scylla found that when he made these sorts of changes to his routine to improve his lifestyle, the data output by his Fitbit as indicators of his health/wellbeing etc improved, e.g. number of steps taken in a day, heartbeats per minute while at rest. As stated many of the other devs went through a similar process.
On the professional side of things:
They had to improve remote delivery of builds. Accessing things from home as a dev requires a VPN. They need to download a build every day and then upload it to the server after making their changes to the game. They had to work with infrastructure and research other tech, such as streaming tech to allow remote console access, in order to better facilitate this process. For remote access, they also had to work on adapting communications channels.
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“Adapting channels of communication.”
In this slide, the team are working on the storyboards. Before you can implement motion capture & performance capture, you have to ‘run the storyboards’ like this. These are small illustrating drawings which reflect the drafts and are meant to quickly reflect the intention of the scenes that are to be built. Before the pandemic, the team would go to meeting rooms like this, sit down, talk and interact in person. After the pandemic, the question became ‘How do you do this over Zoom?’ You can, but it’s not quite the same; it’s harder to see peoples’ expressions, some people are embarrassed speaking over Zoom etc. Therefore they had to adapt their communications systems, and unlearn the ways in which they developed before in order to relearn and learn new ways of communicating.
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Slack was a tool that they adopted on this front. Communications channels can be confusing on Slack, so there was a need to develop structure. For example, how quickly should someone reply (as a recommended convention for the purposes of work)? They had to define the process/procedures for the channels so it was clear for the team as a whole how it would all flow (this is important especially if you have a team with say 30 people or as a whole hundreds of people). Before the pandemic, they had stand-up meetings where they’d go around in a circle every morning and talk about their activities - what they’re going to be working on, any roadblocks they had encountered etc. The question arose ‘How do you replace these?’ They ended up doing Slack messages at a certain time of day and updating their statuses with some details on what they’re working on and color-coding (green - fine, yellow - need help, red - busy/blocked out).
Another issue that they faced was unforeseen - the number of meetings that devs were having really shot through the roof. When there wasn’t a good structure of communications channels, any conversation would become a meeting. Everybody began scheduling meetings left and right, and at the end of the day they would have little time left in which to actually work on their to-do lists. Hence, they had to work with the team to really analyze and be very pragmatic. ‘Which meetings needed to happen? Which didn’t? Is a specific meeting really necessary? Which meetings should be recurring? What can be done over Slack?’ This guideline had to be given to the team to help, and it improved things a lot. The number of meetings decreased a lot and they got more effective. For example, by making sure to set an agenda for meetings beforehand, and by having meeting notes (then a dev who didn’t really need to be at a meeting could skip attending and just quickly review the notes output after instead). They also decreased the standard length of meeting times from the default Outlook blocks of 1 hour and 30 mins to 55 mins and 25 mins respectively. This 5 minute change gave devs time for things like bio breaks (also 4 hours in a row at a computer in a home office with one meeting after another just isn’t good for a person).
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“Adapting p-cap and mocap”.
On content:
From a content point of view, the most difficult thing in terms of the pandemic was adapting p-cap and mocap (performance capture and motion capture). They hire actors and it’s a large studio. The pandemic meant big limits to what they could and couldn’t do. The actors had to be masked and 5 meters apart in distance (although it doesn’t look like it in some of these shots due to angles). Also there could be no other person around in the studio - only the actors. The directors instead would ‘patch’ in remotely on big screens (you can see this in the second photo in the top right). 
Before the pandemic, they felt that they wouldn’t be able to do p-cap or mocap properly remotely, as the directors would usually stand right next to actors giving guidance on their performance. The techs would also usually be near. But they adapted! The keyword is adapting, changing process. It’s harder and it’s different, but it is possible, and people start rethinking what is possible. What was said to be impossible before now is possible.
P-cap differs to mocap in that it also captures voice and facial expressions.
On the future of work after covid:
There will probably be more working from home and more flexibility for workers e.g. being able to work say 3 out of 5 days from home. It does depend on what a dev’s specific job is however. For example, the audio engineers require lots of specialist equipment and said equipment is of higher quality and quantity in the office. So, depending on role, devs might be working more often or less often from home.
Another development is that lots of devs are moving house. In lockdown etc people started reassessing what’s most important in life. Some are moving further away from the studio to get a cheaper rent or for example couples who both needed an office space to work from home from but their current place only had one area. Others are moving closer to nature for a better quality of life, and still others have other different reasons for doing so. Over 10 devs that he knows in fact have recently moved, including Scylla himself.
The pandemic changed certain skills being used by people on a daily basis. Scylla used as an example of this one of his soft skills, being able to tell from looking/interacting in-person with someone if they are stressed out. Obviously it’s less easy to tell if someone is stressed out when you’re remote, so you adapt different ways of checking in with people in the new situation. To continue carrying out his role as Lead Producer, he began checking in with his team pro-actively on the new comms channels and asking how they were doing.
Also, now that companies are more open to working remotely, there is going to be increased competition for hiring devs. They saw both sides of this coin at BioWare. They were able to hire devs from many places that they couldn’t hire from before e.g. Montreal, Vancouver, the US, as there’s less need for devs to relocate to Edmonton or Austin. This opens up opportunities to hire really intelligent and skilled people that they would not have had access to before.
Question and answer segment:
The pre-production phase has been concluded. They’re in the production phase.
They are not giving out a lot of details yet but Scylla is really excited as a big fan of the whole series. He thinks that with DA4, they will have the opportunity/possibility to launch the best story out of all DA games. He feels that the characters they’re making are amazing. He’s dying to say more but can’t. 
When you work from home you need to keep your team as productive as possible. During the pandemic, when people started working from home, they noticed that some people became more productive and some people became less productive. They were analyzing it on a case-by-case basis so as not to make assumptions. They were interested in seeing what they could do to help. At the beginning of the pandemic, they were looking at the devs as people and seeing what they needed.
Production of DA4 still needed to continue during the pandemic because they want to be able to launch the game.
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This slide shows a writer. Writing is an example of a role which is more able to work from home easily.
Their productivity did go down in the first month of the pandemic. After adaptations, some people then became more productive than they were before (this was role and personal situation-dependent, examples of this being artists and coders who were able to art and code at home without being interrupted, thereby being able to produce more). Covid has affected productivity in general, but this is part of our new reality. They have adapted and adjusted some deadlines. They have enough data (Scylla LOVES data) now to understand how long it will take them/how long they’ll need to launch the game. They have always had historical data for this purpose, but they’re doing more of this sort of thing now to ensure that they are doing things at the right time.
Remote hiring opens up the door to more talent joining, so if someone has talent geography will hold them back less. Some companies though may choose not to hire people from other countries due to labor issues, cumbersome legal aspects, time zones. But even in such cases there are activities for example that can be carried out while the rest of the team is asleep such as testing or working on the build, or there are cases where those companies still will want to hire a specifically/highly talented person even in spite of the potential legal aspects and so on.
On mental health: People were affected. There is the mental, physical and social impacts of the pandemic situation on people. EA supported them during the pandemic in terms of their mental wellbeing, there are specific companies (services offered, speaking to a therapist) that they can contact if they need something or help. EA had always been good at supporting them with this sort of thing but this has improved further during the pandemic. Another change was that they could/can take a couple of days off if they needed/need to because of the pandemic e.g. to take care of children, who were obviously not at school at the time. As a producer he had to be very mindful of all of this. How much they were monitoring peoples’ wellbeing really went up during the pandemic.
A question that was asked - in terms of DA4′s storybeats, is there anything in there that they decided to change due to the pandemic as it wouldn’t be sensitive or appropriate to include anymore, for example a plague plotline or something? Scylla’s answer is that DA and ME are games in which they try to have narratives that are relatable, which include things which people will identify with, so that players understand what characters are going through etc. Nothing in DA4′s plotline/storybeats has been changed (in the frame of this question, relating to the pandemic), as it didn’t have anything in it that could be specifically or a directly connected to a pandemic-type situation or anything. Of course the DA story has Blights and the Taint, but these are different & fantastical things and existed long before the pandemic situation. So this wasn’t the case with DA4 and there was no need to change anything, but this has happened to other games where they decided to change a storyline due to a strong correlation with something in the real world.
There were then concluding/closing remarks. The message he wants to send is that a crisis will always spark opportunities. Look at a crisis and try to see how you can grow.
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[☕ found this post interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]
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hesgunnalovethis · 3 years
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Not That Bad
Leonard McCoy x Reader
Summary: You have the severity of your injuries in a twist sending Leonard McCoy’s blood pressure through the roof
TW: injury descriptions and strong language 
ft. bestie Jim Kirk <333
Masterlist!
Word Count: 1737
“Yes. No. I understand Mr Spock. Cuttings on your desk in 40 minutes. Got it.” You closed your comm and checked your watch. 
 You’d spent 16 hours Planetside and after a complication that had landed most crew in the MedBay, you agreed to help out botany to complete the mission report. Really you didn’t have a clue what you were doing but you concluded it couldn’t be that hard. 
 Cross referencing the plants in front of you to the list on your PADD, you picked up the plier looking utensil and began clipping the stems from the root. 
 “Maybe I should transfer to science.” You muttered to yourself after you’d successfully pressed the first few cuttings into their sample bags. 
Taking the next stem between your fingers you picked up the pliers and cut through the green and your fingertip, simultaneously. Blood shot upwards from your finger. You scoffed at the inconvenience. 
 You grabbed the first aid kit and examined the content that your Chief Medical Officer boyfriend had once talked you through and began to wish you’d listened. 
 Failing to remember anything, you wrapped a plaster around the top of your finger and watched it turn from white to red almost immediately. You tried layering another on top which bled through just as fast. After a failed third layer you took yourself from the lab and started towards the MedBay. 
 You stopped for a moment scouring your brain for which corridors to take. It had been so long since you’d actually journeyed to the MedBay by choice. You’d been utilising your doctor shared quarters. 
 Arriving at the desk you checked your watch again. 20 minutes before Spock was expecting you. You began to panic and turned to the receptionist. 
 “Could you ask Doctor McCoy to see me? It’s pretty urgent.” You said, grabbing a bundle of tissues from the display to contain the droplets falling from your finger. 
 The receptionist did as you asked and you heard Leonard through the comm.
 “On the bridge?” He asked. 
 “No, Sir. Here in the MedBay.” The receptionist in front of you responded. 
 “In the Med-“ You heard a fuss beginning through the comm and then a room number you were to be assigned. 
 No sooner had you arrived, a half scrubbed in Leonard burst through the door desperately searching for what heinous emergency had beckoned you to his MedBay. 
 “Are you being serious right now!?” Leonard asked ripping off the last of his scrub uniform. 
 “Always good to see you too, Lee.” You responded, smiling. 
 Sighing softly he shot you an apologetic look and planted a kiss on your cheek. 
 “Hi, darlin’” He whispered letting down his doctor guard and allowing his southern drawl back in. He began to look you over again, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 
 You lifted your hand removing the tissue to reveal your slightly bloodied finger. Leonard took a step back rubbing his temples. 
 “Y/N, darlin’. PUT A PLASTER ON IT?!”
 “I tried that! It keeps bleeding though!” You whined. 
 “There are people DYING in here, Y/N.” 
 “Oh go on, please. I have lab work due in 15 minutes and I can’t work with this bleeding all over the samples!” 
 Leonard sighed and moved to the other side of the room to collect the dermal regenerator. Taking your hand in his he kissed the cut before placing it under the machine.
 He caught your eyes with his. “I left a 6 hour surgery for this.” 
 - 
 The next day you took your healed finger with you on your next mission where your team successfully released several hostages and transported their authoritative grasp to Enterprise Security.  
 “All clear, Jim.” You said to your comm after clearing the last room on your final check. 
 “Received. Take the turbolift to the bridge and let’s get out of here.” 
 Stepping into the foreign tube you found it very similar to Starfleet’s and got it moving towards the bridge. You began to hear Jim’s voice on the other side before the lift stumbled to a halt. 
 “Um, Jim?” You shouted through the metal. 
 “Great.” Jim said clocking the flashing error sign on the lift. “Don’t worry Lieutenant. We’ll... pry it open.” 
 “Full proof.” You said to yourself, getting ready to pull from your side. 
 After a brief plan outline and a countdown you began to pull. A small gap opened to the side and you managed to squeeze your body through before the door clattered closed on your newly regenerated finger. 
 “Again?! Why is it always you?” You asked your finger, pulling it from the metals grip and eying the purple residue left on it. 
 “Me?” Jim asked, doubled over from the effort he’d just exerted, before being distracted by his comm, “Bones! Yes, just calling to let you know of the ZERO injuries incoming to the MedBay!”
 “Zero injuries?” You cut him off. “This is a broken bone for sure.” 
 “Oh my god.” Jim said in disgust looking at the weird purple oil all over the metal, your finger and subsequently his uniform. “Why is it that colour?!” 
 “Dammit, Jim.” You heard through the comm before Leonard hung up and Jim reconnected to the transporter room. 
 You arrived back on the transporter pad to Leonard’s eyes burning a hole in you and pinching the bridge of his nose. 
 “Broken bone?” He said walking towards you.
 “This bastard finger.” You said and Leonard took your wrist to examine it.  
 “THIS-“ He stopped abruptly and calmed himself. “This is a finger, Y/N. BARELY a bone.” He examined it further, “I’m not even convinced that’s broken?” 
 “Tell you what though, it really fucking hurts.” You petted your lip at him. 
 Slipping an arm around your waist he led you out of the transporter room and towards the MedBay. “Let’s get you patched up sweetheart, but we really have to talk about your hyperbole.” 
 -
 It was a few days before you were due to arrive at your next destination and Jim had roped you into helping with his ensign combat training. 
 “It’s basically target practice.” Jim said in conclusion to a confused looking group of redshirts. “The phasers I’ve given you won’t shoot, but will read on the side if you’ve hit your target. It’s like laser tag! You’ve all played laser tag, right?” The room was silent. “And that’s another added to the list of shore leave activities.” 
 “Captain Kirk and I will be over here as moving targets.” You started, taking over from Jim. “Try and shoot me without hitting the Captain. Got it?” 
 You and Jim moved over to the course beginning the same choreographed fight you’d been using for years. You heard the pathetic fake phaser shots over and over and were beginning to question almost all of your life choices as a deafening shot fired and struck your side. 
 “Y/N!” Jim fell to your side, “PHASERS DOWN!” He shouted to the group briefly trying to determine which one hadn’t followed his only instruction ‘Do not bring your own phaser.’ 
 There was a small commotion before you heard Jim’s voice again. “Kirk to MedBay I need a team to training room 1 immediately.” 
 You found yourself back in the same biobed you’d frequented for past 3 days consecutively and tried to keep up with the nurses’ quick conversations. 
 “Someone page McCoy now.” You heard one of them say. 
 “Not Leonard-“ You interrupted, “He’ll jus- is there anyone else?”
 “Not anyone who could patch you up like Doctor McCoy.” One of the nurses stated opening their comm. “Doctor McCoy to room 6. On the double. It’s-“ 
 “Lieutenant Y/L/N?” Leonard cut off the nurse. 
 “Yes.” She replied. 
 “For once I’m not even surprised.” 
 The nurses continued fussing around you and your biobed beeps became angrier. 
 You watched the door open and Leonard’s face turn from passiveness to urgency in a millisecond. 
 “My god!” He shouted, dropping his board and beginning to order nurses to different machines connected to your bed. 
 “Listen, Leonard it’s not THAT bad.” 
 “NOT THAT BAD?! YOU’VE BEEN SHOT?!”  Leonard flicked his eyes between you and your vitals. 
 “Yeah, but, shot in a controlled environment.” 
 “You’ve been in here with a cut and a stave, guns blazing, and now you’ve been shot it’s ‘NOT THAT BAD?!’” 
 “Granted this doesn’t look-“ You were cut off by a wave of pain that sent you wincing. 
 “Hell.” Leonard turned to his own station briefly. “You’re not gonna like this sweetheart but you can tell me all about it when you’re back in one piece.” Leonard planted a kiss on your head and a hypo in your neck, sending you into sleep. 
-
Coming back to, you heard your biobed beeping at a normal rhythm and a strong accent beside you. 
 “I don’t care what his test scores are, he shot a Lieutenant I want him gone.” 
 “Leonard.” You scolded. 
 “Darlin’” He moved to you instantly closing his comm without a word. “How are you feeling?”
 “I’m fine. Sore neck.” You said rubbing where he’d hypo’d you. His eyes were still racked with worry. “It was an accident. That’s why we train them we-“ 
 “Darlin’ if he isn’t removed from this ship the only accident will be me prescribing him with cyanid capsules instead of his iron tablets.” He looked over your vitals again before picking up his clipboard, “But you let me worry about that. You can worry about this.” He handed you a laminated sheet entitled ‘Doctor McCoy’s Guide to a Serious Injury.’ 
 You shot him an annoyed look. 
 “Just so there’s no more confusion.” He winked at you. You glanced over the ‘Serious Injury: To Be Reported’ column. 
 “I hardly think ‘A sudden cough’ is a serious injury, Leonard.” You scoffed. 
 “Oh sure. Let’s just let your DNA de-evolve into non humane codes exterminating crucial pairings.” 
 “Noted.” You said admiring the doctor’s bedside manner, “Is there a second page?” You said spotting another sheet in his hand. 
 “No. This is Jim’s copy.” Leonard replied. 
 “Of course.” 
 Leonard brushed your hair behind your ears and smoothed your forehead. “I’m glad you’re finally visiting the MedBay doll, but I would prefer if you kept your trips to mandatory immunisations and essential check-ups.” 
 “I wouldn’t hold your breath, Doctor.” You said brushing your lips against his. 
“And somehow I still wouldn’t change you for the world.” Leonard said quietly before closing the space left between you.
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midnightsbuck · 3 years
Text
been here all along [fic]
Or; there are traces of Buck all over the Diaz household. 1.8 k
Read on ao3
The coffee maker beeps in the kitchen, the sound carrying all the way into the bedroom the second after Eddie turns off his alarm. A cool breeze comes in through the window Eddie left open last night by mistake, and in the couple steps it takes to go from the bed to the door, Eddie has picked up at least six different clothing items, not even all his, from the floor and the chair in the corner that soon gets tossed into the laundry basket. He stops briefly by Christopher’s room to make sure his son is awake (he’s not, and a cranky five more minutes is heard from under the covers) before going into the bathroom to start his own morning routine.
The bright, red firetruck print that greets him has never failed to make him smile, not once ever since one particular Thursday, maybe two years ago now, when Christopher and Buck spent a couple of hours in the mall looking for a birthday present for one of Chris’s friends but bought a very much not needed set of shower curtains instead, along with matching firetruck soap dispenser and cup. They even have little firefighters painted in the tiny plastic windows, and Christopher might be almost twelve now, but the day he gets tired of his Buck’s gift is yet to come.
A month into the school year, the Diaz family’s mornings have looked mostly the same every day, and this fine Monday proves not to be the exception, as Eddie finds out a few minutes later. A certain blond man is still asleep on Eddie’s couch, and instead of doing his workout, Christopher is sprawled on top of him, snoring lightly. Buck’s legs are twisted in an awkward angle to fit in the couch and one of his hands brushes the fluffy carpet beneath the sofa (the one he picked in an attempt to convince Eddie that his house needed personality), the other holding onto Chris, whose face is completely smushed against the other’s shoulder. Bright blue crutches that Chris has started to grow out of lay in a disorganized pile next to them.
(If Eddie’s heart beats a little bit faster- if his hands itch to hold them too and join the sleepy pile, well. They don’t need to know.)
“Alright, sleepy heads, school starts in an hour! Get up!”
-
Eddie owns a perfectly functional coffee maker, a classic machine with only one button and no special features, that makes his coffee the same way every day, and has done so for almost five years without signs of obsolescence. He’s a simple man with simple tastes, but Eddie’s perfect, simple coffee maker, is currently collecting dust inside a box in the attic.
A steaming cup of coffee, however, is waiting for him on the counter when he steps into the kitchen, complete with milk foam, a shot of caramel, and two sugars: the product of the stupidly expensive machine Buck and Chris had plotted to get him, with all the smart features and Starbucks level settings that Eddie did not need. Using the machine is extremely complicated, too, so once Eddie found out how to input the settings for his drink of choice, he stopped allowing anyone to mess with it. Eddie drinks the sweet concoction religiously every morning, without a fault.
He sips on his sugar bomb slowly as Buck cooks breakfast, eggs, and sausages with toast, fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk for the only kid in the house. The sound of the sizzling pan and the knife hitting the cutting board fills the room along with the smell of homemade breakfast, something that screams of home and family, uninterrupted until Christopher shows up fresh from the shower and in clean clothes, with his restless morning energy and promptly sets to chatting their ears off. Buck keeps the conversation alive and gets the boy to help with mixing the fruit salad while he recounts the last episode of their favorite cartoon they had seen together the previous night. Buck makes surprised sounds at the right times, throwing a few "No way! Tell me more!" for good measure, even though Eddie’s pretty sure he remembers the episode perfectly as he asks the right questions to launch Christopher off in another direction at least three times.
Eddie finishes his coffee, leaves the cup in the sink, and turns to the cupboard to start setting the table.
Three days before school started, Christopher told Eddie that he’s big enough to use big people knives and after a long phone call with his son’s Occupational Therapist, and another with his own therapist, they had gone to the store to get him a cutlery set that could allow him more independence while still on the safer side, and Buck had found the perfect one: the knife has a blunt tip and slightly serrated edge, and a round plastic handle decorated with tiny green and blue dinosaurs.
“Daddy, don’t forget the dinosaurs, please,” Christopher asks politely, just like every day, because he refuses to eat with any other fork or knife. Luckily the set came with six of each, so everyone can use them during breakfast as Christopher prefers.
“Yeah, and don’t forget the big spoon for the fruit salad,” Buck chips in, pointedly looking at Eddie. Clearly, he still hasn’t let go of the last few times he has forgotten the big spoon for the fruit salad. In less than five minutes, they’re seated around the table eating, Christopher’s feet kicking excitedly against Eddie’s when they congratulate him for the A he got in his latest science assignment.
Both his son and best friend clear their plates first, smiles on their faces accompanied by crinkled eyes as they laugh. Eddie has to scold Chris on talking with his mouth full only once- a new record, and Buck only twice, tapping him on the hand with the spoon, reminding him to lead by example and not be a terrible influence on the kid. Buck mumbles a sheepish sorry every time, ducking his head in embarrassment, and Eddie just rolls his eyes and shoots him a fond look. He watches them, joins the laughter when Buck teases him, or when Christopher tells a story from school, warmth filling him up from the inside out.
Soon enough, the time’s up and Christopher goes to brush his teeth and get ready to leave while Eddie and Buck load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops, barely any words exchanged as they move around the kitchen. Eddie checks the calendar by the fridge, next to Christopher’s old artwork and the polaroids held up by fruit magnets. PT at 11 am, Frank’s at 3 pm, reads in the bold block letters of Buck’s handwriting, under Eddie’s own scribble of C’s swimming lessons at 3.30 pm. Eddie makes a face at the overlapping schedule, chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s too late to ask Carla to take Christopher for him, as he gave her the week off a few days ago so she could go to DC for a certification. The last few therapy sessions had been at noon, but PT was pushed up to eleven and so his entire schedule was unexpectedly messed up, and Eddie will have to run from the clinic to Christopher’s school and then take him to the pool, but he’s not cleared to drive yet so he has to account for cab ride expenses and a whole new timeframe now, too. God, he should have gotten this figured out yesterday.
Back in El Paso, when Eddie had worked three jobs, he had once forgotten to pick Christopher up at school because his shift ran longer than usual, his phone died and the teachers were unable to reach him at the construction site. His parents had been called instead, being the second emergency contacts, and they had stared him down later at night while they told him all the reasons he was a bad dad and Christopher should live with them. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.
A hand lands on his healthy shoulder, right next to the base of his neck, and Eddie looks away from the calendar to meet a pair of bright blue eyes next to him. Buck watches him for a second before opening his mouth, careful.
“Hey, Eds, I noticed today looks a bit tight and I was thinking I could ask Bobby to let me out for an hour so I can go pick Chris up and drive him to his lessons, or maybe ask Maddie if I’m on a call,” he says, and the knots in his throat slowly start to dissolve, as he stares up to his friend’s calm face. His shoulders slowly start to relax, the injured one pulses with pain. The warmth of Buck's fingers makes the little hairs on his nape stand up as he swipes his thumb twice over the patch of uncovered skin in a comforting gesture.
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Eddie chokes out.
Buck smiles, and it’s all it takes. The fog lifts.
“Sure, I’ll text you in case I can’t make it so you can let the school know Mads is going to get him,” Buck continues, but he’s not touching Eddie anymore. Eddie takes a small step back, fidgets with the dishrag he still had in his hands as Buck starts to make his way to the living room, picking up his jacket, “you get to pick him up after, and already I left you guys some leftover stew for tonight's dinner in the fridge," Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck while he talks, takes a few steps closer to his friend, but not close enough. "I have a sixteen-hour today, so you tell Christopher goodnight for me, alright?”
“Of course,” his voice is too tight, and it must show because Buck bites his lip and reaches out his hand again, but doesn’t touch. At that moment Christopher burst back into the living room and yells out as if Buck isn’t right there to hear him.
“I’m ready, Buck!”
With a last smile, Buck turns to the door, putting on his shoes quickly and pulling his bag out of the hallway closet. Eddie leans down to place a smooch on his son’s cheek, which makes him laugh, and throw his head back with a loud “Bye, dad!” in his ear.
“Alright buddy, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck exclaims and Christopher bolts out the door, followed by his Buck, and Eddie stays at the threshold until he can’t see the Jeep past the corner of the street.
It’s barely eight o’clock and he still has chores to get done before PT, but Eddie just drops facefirst into the heap of blankets on top of the couch, drowning in the smell of his family and he aches for the picture he saw earlier that morning, sleep falling slowly over him like another blanket. A short nap is calling his name from the dream world, and the last thing he sees before going under is his pillbox for the pain meds next to a bottle of water, a pink post-it note stuck on the tag, big bold letters were carefully written on it. I know you forget but please take these before leaving home! xx. Buck.
Eddie falls.
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hauntedfalcon · 3 years
Text
living in midnight
for day four of Nile Freeman Week: "Nile & Struggle" plus a fantasy AU in which superheroes exist, Nile isn't one of them, and she doesn't let that stop her. 1700 words, rated M for swearing. content warning for wounds and needles because it's Nile's turn for sapphic patching up, as a treat
the title is from Lianne La Havas’s “Midnight”. many thanks to @flightsofwonder for beta reading <3
read on AO3 or below
Nile opens her eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. There is an unfamiliar pillow under her head, and she is recumbent on an unfamiliar sofa. Above it is a window, where streetlights reflect in the sinuous trails of raindrops.
Rain. Knives. Three attackers. She fought like hell, might have broken someone’s arm, but they landed one good hit. They left her for dead in an alley. She watched her own blood run into a puddle.
She bolts upright--and hisses when a wave of agony breaks over her, starting in her abdomen and shooting everywhere.
“Please don’t move,” says a softly accented voice. “You’re safe here. I haven’t seen your face.”
Nile collapses back down to the pillow and touches her face, just to be sure. Her mask is still in place. She drops her hand and forces one eye open, blurry with pained tears, to get a look at whoever dragged her in from the alley.
A white woman. Dark shoulder-length hair. Youngish, maybe Nile’s age. Dressed all in black, much like her--not for stealth but for soft goth vibes. Cute, if she’s honest, but this isn’t the fucking singles bar, get it together Freeman.
“I staunched the bleeding,” her rescuer says, “but I was waiting until you were conscious to do the stitches.”
“Do we have to?” Nile groans before she can stop herself.
A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. “I’m afraid so. Would you like some fortitude?” The amateur surgeon holds out a bottle of Everclear.
Ugh. Nile takes the cap off and drinks deep, leaving enough in the bottle to sterilize whatever needs to be sterilized. It tastes like ass and lingers at the back of her throat.
Before the alcohol can set in and obliterate her senses, she says, “Can I borrow your phone?”
The woman hesitates. Very wise of her.
“Listen,” Nile says. “We had two leads come in at the same time. Al-Tayyib took one and I took the other, and mine was a decoy, which means...” She can’t, won’t, say it aloud. She hates how feeble she sounds. “I just have to check in with him. Please.”
The woman hands her a smartphone, unlocked. Nile hits the keycode to make the call anonymous, then dials Joe’s shitty flip phone from memory. He keeps it on silent when he’s on the rounds, and he’ll only answer if he’s safe.
Pick up, she wills him, because if she has to hear his stupid cheerful voicemail greeting now of all times, she’s going to scream right in front of this poor woman who didn’t ask for any of this drama in her life. Pick up, pick up, pick--
“Pronto.”
Nile’s gut tightens (painfully, but that’s not what matters right now) at the sound of another unfamiliar voice. The assassin. Joe walked into a trap.
“Where is he?” she demands, trying to sound hard and not like she’s lying on a stranger’s couch with an open wound.
A gust in the speaker. Is he laughing at her? She strains to hear anything that would give away their location: traffic, a clock tower, machinery, anything. There’s nothing else. No hint of Joe yelling in the background, either.
“I will return him to you presently,” says the asshole. Very formal.
“What, after you shank him like your goons did to me?”
“They were instructed not to kill you,” he says in a voice that wouldn’t fog a window in January. “Did you die?”
White-hot rage flares out of her with no place to go. “Where is he, you son of a--” But he has already hung up on her.
Nile resists the urge to growl. If this was her phone she would throw it against the wall. Instead she quickly deletes the record of the outgoing call, and hands the phone back to the woman, who pockets it. “Thank you,” she says tightly.
“I’m sorry to say so,” says the woman as she holds the tip of a curved needle in a candle flame, “but you are in no condition to save anyone right now.”
She blows out a sigh in answer. When she pulls the hem of her shirt up and peels away the medical tape and bandage pad, she discovers that the woman is absolutely right. This isn’t the worst Nile has been hurt and still fought, but it is pretty bad.
And it’s one thing to trash a gang of traffickers while she’s actively bleeding. It’s something totally different to track down a guy who has been three steps ahead of them this whole time, and seems to have removed his sense of morals with an ice cream scoop.
There’s only one thing left to do: say a silent prayer. The way she learned to pray feels insufficiently casual for the circumstances; she wishes she knew more about the format of the rakat. All she remembers is, “God hears the one who praises him,” so she starts on the Lord’s Prayer because praise comes before petition.
In place of, “Give us this day our daily bread,” she substitutes, “Get Joe out of this with his head,” and then she has to hold back a giggle at the rhyme. She must have lost a lot of blood.
The woman wipes the needle down with Everclear. “You know, I met the old Guardian too.”
Nile eyes her carefully. She won’t say Andy’s name in this woman’s presence. She won’t say Joe’s name either, much less her own. She won’t slip no matter how much blood she’s lost or how strong the alcohol is or how fundamentally good and trustworthy this woman seems or how much this is going to hurt. “Not under the same conditions,” she presumes.
“Very similar,” the woman says with another fleeting smile. “I hope she’s well?”
“She’s good,” Nile hastens to reassure her. “She retired.” And she left Nile her nom de guerre and all the weight that went with it.
“I’m glad she made it that long.”
“Probably thanks to you,” Nile says, and she gets a longer smile for it.
Then the needle bites into her skin and Nile whimpers softly and throws an arm over her eyes. She’s hard. She’s tough. This is what she does.
The woman’s gloved hand pinches the wound closed as she stitches. She works quickly, professionally. “I’m really glad you found me,” Nile manages. “I can’t exactly go to a hospital.”
“I think you would be surprised,” the woman says. “You are well loved in this city. People would protect your identity.”
That’s not it. Nile can’t go to hospital because there’s a chance her mom would be on shift, and the only thing worse than keeping her alter ego secret from her mom is the idea that she would find out because Nile came in on a gurney. She can’t do that to her.
A tug, as she ties the thread off, and then a snip of the shears. Nile lifts her head and looks down at a slightly puckered, neatly stitched, no longer bleeding knife wound.
Her laugh sounds brittle, just this side of hysterical. The woman glances at her. “I have work tomorrow,” Nile says weakly.
The woman tapes a fresh bandage over the wound. “Me too.”
No rest for the righteous. “The struggle is real, huh? Sorry for keeping you up late.”
“I will call in if you do,” the woman offers.
But going into the office in the morning might be the soonest opportunity to make sure Joe is okay. Nile pulls her shirt down and zips her bomber jacket over it. “I should go.”
The woman sets one hand on Nile’s arm. “Please stay. You shouldn’t be out alone tonight.”
“They might have been watching when you brought me inside,” Nile warns.
“Then I will need your protection, won’t I?” the woman says without blinking, as if she’s not the one that just saved Nile’s whole life.
Nile cracks an incredulous smile but the woman just gazes at her solemnly.
“Okay,” she says at last. “Okay, I’ll stay. Thank you. And I’m sorry for bleeding on your couch.”
It’s not enough, but the woman just sets about cleaning up her supplies. Nile settles back against the pillow and wills her muscles to unclench.
“May I ask,” the woman asks as she washes her hands, “why you do this? You don’t have superpowers.”
No, and none of the people who do have taken this city under their protection. Flippant, lazy answers parade through Nile’s mind, because she’s not in a charitable mood. Anger issues. No one else is gonna do it. I’m a giant masochist, actually.
But when she opens her mouth, the first thing that comes out is Andy’s answer, from when Nile asked her years ago. “Because there are people worth fighting for.”
Then Joe’s answer: “People who won’t get justice any other way.”
And, finally, one that’s all hers. “I have a responsibility. This is my city”
She’s going to pass out any minute, but beneath her fatigue there’s still a live coal of the feelings that made her put this mask on in the first place. This is her damn city. She spends so much time in the guts of its shitty justice system, and the rest of the time punching assholes, that she sometimes forgets her city is full of ordinary, decent people. Good people. People who will bring someone in from the rain. People like…
“What’s your name?” Nile asks, and then catches herself. “I can’t--give you mine. Sorry. It might be safer if I don’t know yours.”
“Celeste,” says the woman.
Good people like Celeste. How comforting that is.
Her pain is down to an ache instead of a burn, and her eyes drift closed. In the morning, she’ll be out of Celeste’s hair. She’ll shower at her apartment, carefully, and she’ll go into Legal Aid, and Joe will be there, a little banged up but alive. He’ll hug her, quick and tight, and they’ll loiter by the coffee maker and speak in low voices and sort out their next play. And when the work day is over, they’ll go with Andy and Quỳnh down to Booker’s for drinks and darts, and Nile will order a bouquet of flowers sent to Celeste’s apartment in thanks. Everything, for given quantities of everything, will be fine.
Confident in her safety, secure in her purpose, Nile rests.
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Text
Did You Know?
Prompt: the merlin fic you wrote with a crying arthur who didn't realize he had a hand in normalizing merlin to physical pain/punishment is HEARTBREAKING and i couldn't help but think while reading it that merlin may have just assumed that the knights and arthur //knew// visting knights were handsy w him and just didnt care, like he just thought it was normal and they would expect nothing less. anyway if u wanna write something that has that kind of idea/vibe i'd be delighted to read it! love u <3
Ahh yes more h/c here we go
Read on Ao3 Part 2
Warnings: visiting nobles and knights are dicks. implied/referenced rape/non-con and abuse NOTHING EXPLICIT
Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care
Word Count: 3031
 Merlin is…confused.
 He’s doing his job as a servant—not that he’s begrudging his position that much, destiny is destiny, after all—and putting up with all the things that servants are supposed to put up with.
The learning curve was very steep, don’t get him wrong. Coming from Ealdor, where the only authority figure he absolutely had to listen to was his mum, and straight into Camelot’s complex authority structure with rules and consequences and all the messy trappings of those horrid make-believes he and Will used to do when they were little boys. Hell, he ended his first full day in Camelot arrested, relying only on Gaius’s social powers in court to get him released. He’s not exactly a beacon of well-mannerisms.
 So if it took him a while to get used to the type of work Arthur was going to have him do, that’s fine! He’s never had to put armor on anyone before, let alone the Crown Prince, who expected him to do all that and then some. He’s never known how to clean shiny pieces of metal that just serve to attract more attention than they’re worth, they never had shiny pieces of metal other than coin. And he’s certainly never known how to dodge swords being swung at his head. Never.
 It wasn’t expected—no, it wasn’t, you prat—for him to be able to shrug on all these new responsibilities, even if he had been trained as a servant, because he’s never done them before. Thank the gods for Gwen, honestly, who was more than happy to make sure he at least knew how to hold a sword without cutting himself.
 “Here’s the next one,” she’d called, handing him the next training sword from the batch, “now, try again.”
 “This is the rag, this is the polish, and we just—ow!”
 “Try not to polish the edge of the blade, Merlin.”
 “I knew that,” he had muttered sheepishly, rubbing the cloth over the flat of the blade this time, “but thank you.”
 Gwen had rolled her eyes fondly. “Just keep trying, you’re doing great.”
 So he had just…done his best to learn what to do. Which would’ve been easier had he also not been learning how to act.
 ‘Yes, sire.’
 ‘No, sire.’
 ‘As you wish, sire.’
 ‘Sire’ this and ‘sire’ that and bloody hell, why is he not allowed to say anyone’s bloody name?
 Formalities have never really been Merlin’s strong suit, not that he’s ever really needed them. And now that he has to use them, he’s starting to regret not paying attention to his mum’s scoldings. Just a little bit. Not that much. It’s not entirely his fault, is it, that those lectures were so boring and there were things he could’ve been doing.
 But here…
 Here, if he doesn’t address someone the right way, he gets cuffed around the head. The first time it happened, his hand flew to his head in shock. It wasn’t a particularly hard slap—he’s had worse walking into the door by himself—but the fact that someone was allowed to hit him, was expected to hit him, and it was his own fault was…jarring.
 He learns his lesson about trying to hit back much quicker.
 He still slips up from time to time, even now, after so many years, but his reflexes have gotten a lot better. Goblets, combs, hunks of bread, boots, staffs, just about every object he can think of, he’s had thrown at his head. With Arthur, it’s fine, he can snipe back perfectly well on his own, and it’s not like he’s going anywhere. He just bites back enough to make it a little more bearable. And besides, Arthur hasn’t ever seriously hurt him, maybe because he’s always lauding about how strong he is and how weak Merlin. Doesn’t want to break him.
 And he can get away with it with some of the knights. The close ones, sure. Leon—well, he doesn’t try that much shite with Leon. Leon’s terrifying, not just because he’s one of the oldest knights and the longest-serving of Arthur’s inner circle, but because he knows things. Leon’s perception scares the hell out of Merlin, not in the least because he’s got so much to hide.
 Does he ever think Leon would seriously hurt him? No, but he might tell people who would.
 Percival is a big man. His arms are about the size of Merlin’s skull. He doesn’t want to get near that man’s bad side, even if he hasn’t found it yet.
 Elyan is sneaky. He’s got just enough say to be dangerous, not enough to be an obvious suspect. And he’s got Gwen on his side—or more specifically, Gwen’s got him on her side. Gwen would never hurt him, he knows, he trusts her too much.
 Lancelot is the only one he’s not afraid of, him and Gwaine. Mainly because he knows that they know.
 …look, you do what Merlin’s been doing for as long as he’s been doing it, you slip up. It happens.
 But Lancelot never looked at him differently. Never raised a hand to him to hurt him, always touched him gently, spoke softly, sparred with him in good faith. Even when he swings a spear at him in jest, it’s never too fast to actually bruise him if it connects.
 Gwaine slaps him on the shoulder, claps him on the back, hard enough to bruise sometimes, but he cares. He hides it well—well, sort of—and looks out for Merlin when Lancelot can’t. But he knows Gwaine has a breaking point, and he’s not super keen on looking for it.
 He can get away with it. A little. Not a lot.
 But only with them.
 With the other knights…
 One of the hardest things he had to learn was that no one cared.
 When a knight smacks him over the head with the flat of a dulled blade, it doesn’t matter that the sight of a blade swinging at his freezes terror in his throat, nor that the ring of the blade won’t go away for three hours. The others will just laugh and tell him to move his arse.
 When a knight knocks the equipment out of his hands and snarls at him to get moving, it doesn’t matter that it’s often accompanied by a boot to his ribs. He’ll always get elbowed in the exact same place later and they won’t care about his wince.
 When a knight decides that he’s had enough of Merlin just looking at him, he—
 The other thing that Merlin’s had to learn very, very quickly, is that it’s better him than the other servants.
 He has Gaius. Gaius will patch him up, no questions asked. And when he can’t go to Gaius, it’s not like he’ll be caught lurking suspiciously in his own quarters. And when he can’t do that, he has his magic.
 None of the others do.
 So he learns. He picks up the things he needs to know, puts his head down, and bears it.
 That’s what servants are supposed to do.
 So you can imagine that when the others look absolutely horrified as he explains to them that he knows how this works, he’s learned, he’s confused.
 “Come on, guys, it’s not like the other servants don’t know this.”
 “It’s funny,” Gwaine growls, his fist tightening on the table, “how you think that makes this any better.”
 Merlin rolls his eyes. “I’m not a gossip, Gwaine—“
 “That,” Elyan says, “is not true.”
 “—okay fine, I enjoy a bit of the servant’s gossip as well as anyone, but not about this!” He shakes his head. “It’s fine, they know about it, it’s not like anyone cares.”
 “See, Merlin,” Lancelot says quietly, “that’s where you’re wrong.”
 Merlin frowns. What are they talking about? Who’s noticed? Is he doing it wrong? What does he need to fix?
 See, his confusion only grows when he voices those concerns and the knights only seem to grow more upset.
 “I can’t believe this,” Gwaine mutters, turning away, “how long has this been happening, Merlin?”
 “Which part?”
 Gwaine is doing a remarkable impersonation of someone who is extremely constipated. “…all of it.”
 “I mean, it began as soon as I set foot in Camelot, if you want to go from the very beginning.”
 Leon swallows. “And if we asked for you to be…more specific?”
 Merlin huffs, throwing his arms up. “Why are you so concerned about this? It’s nothing to worry about!”
 “You’re being abused, Merlin,” Arthur—since when has Arthur been this quiet?—says finally, looking at Merlin the same way he looked at Morgana when Uther strangled her against the back of the throne—see? It’s just something that happens here— “that’s definitely something to worry about.”
 Merlin scoffs. “I’m not being abused, I’m just being treated like a servant.”
 “If that’s what you think being treated like a servant means,” Gwaine says, standing, “then this conversation is going to take a lot longer than we thought.”
 In response, Percival moves to stand in front of the door. Merlin sighs.
 “You don’t have to block the exit, Percival, I know I’m not allowed to leave.”
 A choked-off sound comes from Merlin’s left, followed by a muffled curse. Percival shakes his head.
 “I’m over here to make sure no one else comes in to hurt you,” the knight says calmly, “not to make sure you don’t leave.”
 “But if you want to,” Elyan says quickly, “you can.”
 “No, no, I know a trap when I see one, no thank you.”
 “It’s not a trap, Merlin,” Lancelot says, even as he looks to be about two seconds from crying for some reason, “if you truly wish to leave, you can. We won’t stop you.”
 Merlin raises an eyebrow. “…sure.”
 Arthur lowers his head. Merlin frowns, watching his shoulders tense.
 “Are you alright?”
 He gets his answer in the form of many unshed tears welling up in Arthur’s eyes as he raises his head.
 “No, Merlin,” he says in a remarkably steady voice, “I’m not. But don’t worry about me.”
 “That’s my job,” Merlin insists, striding forward, “let me help.”
 Arthur catches him gently—gently?—gently by the elbows as he reaches for him, smiling sadly.
 “Can I give you another way to help me?”
 Merlin swallows heavily. “…what does it entail, exactly?”
 “For starters, explaining why that question has you shaking in your boots.”
 “I’m not—“ Merlin looks down to see Arthur’s hands are just about the only thing holding him up— “oh.”
 “Sit,” Leon encourages, bringing a chair over and crouching in front of it. Around him, the knights lower themselves to the ground, with the exception of Percival, still by the door.
 “Merlin,” Leon calls again, “can I ask you some questions? If you don’t want to answer any of them, that’s alright, but may I ask?”
 Merlin blinks. “Sure?”
 He gets a nod of thanks. “What do you understand your duties as a servant to be?”
 “To help with the running of the castle and take care of Arthur’s needs.”
 “Which are?”
 “What—“
 “Please,” Arthur says softly, “please, Merlin, I know it sounds silly, but…please?”
 Well, he’s never been very good at saying no to upset Arthur. He sighs.
 “Keeping his chambers clean, keeping track of his laundry, dressing him in the mornings, polishing his armor, bringing him food, escorting him to court affairs, and any other odd jobs he asks me to do.”
 Leon nods. “And what about the knights? Do you have duties with us, too?”
 “I’m supposed to help you train and see to your immediate needs with those, too.”
 “Such as?”
 “Equipment, water, food, chambers—“
 “Chambers?” Lancelot frowns. “Why would you need to see to our chambers?”
 “Not yours, but the visiting knights.” Merlin frowns as Arthur’s hand twitches on his elbow. “What?”
 “Do they presume that you are their servant,” Leon asks in a low voice, “when you do so?”
 “I am, aren’t I?” He looks to Arthur. “You assign me to them.”
 “No, Merlin,” Arthur corrects gently, still looking like he’s about two seconds from crying and still taking Merlin by surprise at how soft he’s being, “I ask you to get them settled, that’s all.”
 Merlin blinks. “Oh. Uh…”
 “What do they ask you to do,” Leon asks, “as their servant?”
 He furrows his brow, trying to remember. “Uh, change their sheets, see to their armor, start a fire, bring them dinner…”
 Leon raises an eyebrow when he trails off. “Anything else?”
 “They, um—“
 Hands. Hands on his skin. Voices in his ear.
 “Merlin.” Arthur gives him a shake. “Merlin.”
 “Sorry,” he says instantly, “I just…”
 He trails off again when he sees the absolutely heartbroken look on Arthur’s face.
 “…Arthur?”
 “Why,” Arthur whispers, “why do you let them…do that?”
 Merlin frowns. “It’s fine.”
 “It’s most certainly not fine.”
 “It is,” Merlin argues, “it’s what servants are supposed to do, anyway, and it’s better me than the others.”
 Gwaine muffles a curse again, and to his surprise, so does Lancelot.
 “Merlin,” Leon says, calling his attention with how hoarse he sounds, “Merlin, why is it better you than the others if there’s nothing wrong with what’s happening to you?”
 Oh.
 Oh.
 Oh, no.
 Merlin’s hands start to shake.
 Something in his throat wells up and pushes against his jaw. It hurts. The bruises on his back start to smart.
 “Why do you care,” he says instead, “why now?”
 “We didn’t know,” Leon whispers, sounding every bit the man confessing his worst sin, “and we are so, so sorry that we didn’t.”
 “And if you’re asking why we care,” Lancelot says, equally heartfelt, “then we are more sorry than you could ever know.”
 Merlin frowns. “But you lot do it too.”
 The room freezes.
 Arthur yanks his hands away from Merlin like he’s been burned. Leon stifles a noise of his own as Elyan’s mouth drops open.
 “What,” Gwaine manages after a few moments, “the fuck does that mean?”
 “You—you hit me, you order me around, you—“ Merlin swings his head back and forth, looking at their shell-shocked faces— “why are you all looking at me like that?”
 “Because you’ve just told us we’ve been abusing you since the moment you set foot in Camelot, Merlin,” Arthur whispers, tears finally starting to roll down his cheeks.
 “But you knew!” Merlin’s hands fly to his hair as he cries out. “You knew this was happening, you could see it happening and you didn’t care!”
 “I’m sorry, Merlin—“
 “If we knew it was like this—“
 “If you think we’d ever hurt you like that—“
 “No, gods no, Merlin—“
 “Of course we care—“
 “Merlin,” Arthur whispers, holding out a shaking hand, “Merlin, please, please believe us that we would never be okay with you being mistreated like that. Like this.”
 And godsdamnit all, the amount of sheer heartbreak in the room is enough to coax a lump into Merlin’s throat and spring tears down his cheeks. Arthur lets out a wounded noise as he sees them, reaching forward to gently, still gently, wipe them away. The naked concern on not just his face, but the others’ faces as well, only encourages more.
 “I’m so sorry, Merlin,” he keeps saying, “I’m so, so, sorry.”
 “Arthur, I—“ He’s cut off by a gasping sob— “Arthur—“
 “Shh, shh, shh,” Arthur hushes frantically, cupping Merlin’s face in both hands, “shh, shh, Merlin, it’s alright, no one’s ever going to hurt you again, I swear it—“
 “You’re damn right,” he hears Gwaine mutter as the other knights agree.
 “—and I’m so sorry that you thought I’d be okay with it, that I was helping—“ Arthur’s voice cracks— “no, no, you’re—you’re my Merlin—I never want to see you hurt like that—I never mean to hurt you—“
 “I know,” Merlin murmurs, “I—I know you don’t.”
 Arthur, gentle Arthur, pulls him into the softest hug he’s ever had, cradling him like he’s something precious, something fragile, something to be savored and oh, oh, gods—
 “Easy,” he hears Leon soothe, “easy does it now, come sit—come sit with us.”
 He can’t quite manage to pry himself out of Arthur’s grip as he feels the knights come closer, huddling around the two of them in a protective circle. He even hears Percival’s heavy steps coming closer, a silent guardian, keeping watch.
 “I don’t—“ he gasps— “I don’t understand.”
 “We’ll help you,” Arthur promises in his ear, “we’ll help you figure it out.”
 “But if anyone ever,” Gwaine growls, “and I mean ever does anything like that to you again, you tell us.”
 Merlin nods frantically. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”
 “Thank you, Merlin,” Leon murmurs, “may I…?”
 Merlin nods and Leon’s hand cards tenderly through his hair.
 “Oh, Merlin,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “you came into our lives blustering about how servants were people too…and we never noticed this?”
 The knight shudders and steels himself.
 “We will do better.” He gives Merlin’s head one last pat. “We all will.”
 “I can—“ Merlin swallows— “I can…ask for help?”
 “Yes, Merlin,” Arthur promises instantly, “you can ask me for help, and if you think I’m letting another one of those knights near you ever again—“
 Oh. Oh, wow.
 The wave of protective fury that hits Merlin’s chest is—
 Wow.
 He’s still confused. Confused and more than a little scared.
 But as he curls up in Arthur’s arms, held and kept with Camelot’s strongest knights curled around him too, protecting him, shielding him, he thinks he may finally start to feel safe.
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