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dangerously-human · 4 months

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3, 26, 50 for the writer ask game :)

Thank you for your patience, I know I took forever to answer all of these but this one took even longer because I decided to indulge myself with ALL the details and that was a time-consuming genuine delight. 😅

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

I am a big fan of playing with metaphor and challenging myself with defined structure. Years ago, I wrote a Continuum fic (Still Here) with POV from every character in the story, with the swaps happening in a sort of chain based on who the characters interacted with - Dillon talks to Carlos, then we're in Carlos's POV until he thinks about Garza, then we're with Garza until she picks a fight with Emily, and so on - all looking at the same theme of how Kiera returning to her time left a hole that deeply affects everyone she left behind. Love giving myself a theme to work around, like chapters in developing relationship fic each based on a color of the rainbow. As is probably quite apparent, I enjoy writing "five times/things" fics and drabbles, and combining the two. Sometimes I go a step further and do the variations on a theme thing for five interconnected drabbles, like the Sparky five senses series. I like giving myself a challenge with fanfiction so it still feels like I'm growing my writing skills, even though a lot of things come easier than with original works.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

Easy, I write fics sans dialogue all the time. I do really enjoy dialogue and I think I've improved my ability to write it a lot, but introspection is still where I thrive.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Oh goodie, love this question! I'm going to answer 29: What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [Here's a Safe Place to Lay Your Heart Down]? Explain your choices if you want!

I never used to be the kind of writer who had separate playlists for individual projects (outside of the occasional original work), just one massive playlist for the fandom. It's been a fun way to focus on some of the more effort-heavy, long-term WIPs! Here's the one for the ring fic:

The Graduate - The Arcadian Wild: The bittersweetness of growing up and your perspective shifting so you see the world as it truly is, for better and worse simultaneously. "When you were younger, you dreamed of being tall, but you discovered growing up just leaves you feeling small" / "Failing is fruitful, so long as we do not forget to move" / "We are wandering through the wild, we are wondering when not if we'll reach the other side... When we were ever alone? Together we'll make our way home"

Anomaly - Angels & Airwaves: Lockwood crush angst! "I never wanted to say how much I liked you, I never wanted to be one of your sad discoveries" - not feeling worthy of Lucy

Dark Mirage - Matthew Parker, HIDDEN EYES: Lockwood struggling and Lucy feeling helpless. "I don't possess the power to drive off the darkness that's haunting you, I pray the truth gets louder" - Felt fitting for the wallowing portions of this fic, considering Lockwood vastly overestimates his negative effect on Lucy. Also like... this level of angst is exactly what Lockwood is terrified of inflicting on Lucy, it's not actually like this but he's worried it could be if he's not constantly on high alert (which is what Lucy tells him she's willing to do if he ever needs it)

Taxi Cab - Twenty One Pilots: Ooh, this one hits hard on so many Lockwood & Co levels. "I wanna fall inside your ghost and fill up every hole inside my mind, and I want everyone to know that I am half a soul divided" is just such a good way to showcase Lockwood's growth, from the soul divided being between life and death to being part of a whole (with Lucy). The repetition of "don't be afraid" throughout a lyrical story that is so Lockwood all over just. Argh, it's very very hard for me to put this one into words. Like how the "don't be afraid" could at first be giving up but then it's a promise not to. And it gets at the same idea as the books do with Lockwood as both Christ figure and the one saved ("and then I asked them, am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead? And then one turned around to say, we're driving toward the morning sun, where all your blood is washed away and all you did will be undone"). There's a lot of imagery here I associate with the Other Side and the return, and so I connect it with Lockwood sort of dying and, upon symbolic resurrection, choosing a new life that involves opening himself up to Lucy... Ugh, yeah, this one's harder to explain, it just means a LOT to me

Hot Tea - half•alive: Obsessed with this as Lockwood being pathetically in love, tbh ("Wanna be here ar your door 12am and sleeping on your porch until you get in, looking into your eyes endlessly, crawling into your lap desperately"), and "can't afford to lose you any longer" fits very well for the canon era chapter, but also just the warmth of belonging to each other ("Hold you in my hands like hot tea, knowing I'm safe 'cause you want me")? That is always the Locklyle vibe I'm going for, but especially in this fic. Also the line "sip you through my front teeth" makes me think of Lockwood and his blue whale thing, hahaha

Spiders - Bear's Den: I will eventually come back to write the spiders symbolism kidfic that slots in later in this series, which is the only reason I did not end up using these lyrics for this fic despite it fitting the vibe so well. (Love, I'm Trying had at least three WIPs competing to use it as a title for a while there.) But, yeah, the whole thing with spiders as indicative of a haunting lends extra power to this one in an L&Co context, with lines like "I can't take back all the hurt I've caused, everything I love I have somehow lost, it's four in the morning abd the spiders are crawling in my mind, replaying pictures of all I can't undo, love, I'm trying, but I can't oull myself when the darkness comes" - and that being when Lockwood has to learn to go to Lucy, because that's what they do for each other, they pull each other out when they can't do it alone

Rain Clouds - The Arcadian Wild: The growth! While usually I associate this song more with Lucy, it does still work for Lockwood and the guilt he carries, moving from "I'm being shadowed by my past, reminding me of what I was and what I could become" to a sort of conversation of "I need someone to be my guide, listen to my voice, close your frightened eyes, hide behind my love for you, fear's only a choice, one that we all must make someday"

BREAKFAST - half•alive: Chosen as the title source for good reason; this song is all about vulnerability and the mortifying ordeal of being known, and practicing embracing the safety of leaving your heart in someone else's hands - starting out feeling reluctant and even panicky at the idea of openness ("I fled to the walls, yeah, be sure I'm surrounded, where no one can find me") to fighting your instincts and opening up no matter how hard it is, and being met with the reassurance of being seen and loved in all your complexity ("say you're open through tears and trembling, it's a major step, it's okay to fret, here's a safe place to lay your heart down"), and the reminder that messing up doesn't mean you've broken the relationship irreparably ("it's a second chance, it won't be your last"), which is a message Lockwood really needs to hear from Lucy in this fic, as they repeat old patterns with new endings

Lifeline - Angels & Airwaves: The forgiveness and gentleness Lucy offers Lockwood - "We all make mistakes, here's your lifeline"

Your Burden is Mine - Sarah Sparks, Kenny Komatsu: The doing life together part, a reminder that it's pride that intereferes with letting love in - "Don't spare me from anything, your burden is mine" / "Careful, my brother, there on your own, for it is a fool who suffers alone, there's none self-sufficient, only those who try, so swallow your pride, your burden is mine"

TrusT - half•alive: Ooh, this song absolutely messes me up re: redemption, and also unchanging adoration/stability even in the midst of conflict. Lockwood needs to hear it from a romantic relationship perspective ("rest and know the love you hold won't be taken back, no, how sweet the taste of certainty, the gift you gave is safe with me"), but it hits hard for me from a Christian theology perspective - and isn't that just the surprise theme of this fic, the ways marriage is meant as an echo of Christ's love for his bride, the Church. Also fits really well for this in-between space they find themselves in as they have an answer for the Problem yet are still working on the solution ("the tug of war in the now-not-yet... can you tell me why I feel this way? I have faith that the world I'm in will be redeemed again, but there's a weight that I can't explain, so tell me why I feel this way"), which I think is a tension in the background of most of my work in this particular series

The Kitchen - Tow'rs: For the imagery of dancing together in the kitchen as a way of making amends after a fight - "You made me dance in the kitchen with you, if I was the night then you were the moon"

What Home Feels Like - The Afters: Gosh this song is so CUTE, and that is the Locklyle vibe! Just the idea of finding home and belonging with the person you love - "There is no place I'd rather be for the first time in my life, I know what home feels like" / "No, I never wanna leave, 'cause I've found where I belong, this is what home feels like"

Let's Get Married - Bleachers: This is THE love post-trauma song, and fits the warmth of 35 Portland Row so well along with Lucy and Lockwood promising to make it work even when it's crazy hard, because they recognize where they're a little broken but they also believe building a life together is worth it

#personal #writer probs: fanfic edition #lockwood & co

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fanstuffrantings · 7 months

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Bit of content for Adam and Blake's dynamic in my rewrite. Their supposed canon ages (23 and 17 at the start) made me think the romance angle would be weird. Unless it was intended to be viewed as a grooming relationship (maybe it was?) So I'm opting for switching things up a bit:

He breathed deep, eyes fixed ahead on the creature tensing barely a few yards away. Its writhing shadowed form snarled as it sprang forward, racing towards the teenager who, despite his creased brow and sweat, refused to run. His hand lifted as the Beowolf barreled towards him, and with a claw like motion, dark energy shot forth from some runes carved into his flesh.

The creature jolted to a stop barely a foot away, it's head twitching in what could've almost been confusion before it twisted away to lie down facing out from the boy.

With his spare hand, he pushed a few strands of his red hair back into place, a surprised smile lifting his features. He stared at his left arm in amazement. "The witch didn't lie." He looked over his shoulder to a younger girl, barely 11 who watched on with worry. Her golden eyes slitted so her pupils were barely visible with her obvious fear.

"Bell, it's fine, come see!" Unblemished hand outstretched he gave her a soft smile. She didn't move immediately and he didn't seem to worry about hurrying her. His eyes were wide, gentle and understanding. After a moment she took a tentative step forward, eyes darting the treeline for any sign of danger amoung the red leaves.

"But what if it jumps up again?"

"Then I'll do the trick one more time. Don't worry, I've got you."

Her feline ear flicked, not convinced. But still she edged forward until she was close enough to grab his hand. He motioned for her to sit and together they situated themselves near the surprisingly dormant Grimm. Blake's fear mixed with wonder. She wasn't willing to get close but as she scanned its form it was clear she was taking in every detail she couldn't normally grab from a distance.

"Our lady held up her promise; I just need to get stronger, quicker. I can keep us safe." Adam sighed eyes flickering over the runes he couldn't read. They were agonizing to get inscripted but this amount of evidence to their power proved it was worth it.

A small hand touched his arm and his head lifted to meet Blake's gaze. "All good Bell."

"Was she scary?"

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around her. "Terrifying. But she's already given so much more than anyone else. I can keep our brothers and sisters safe now."

Blake's mouth thinned into a line, she wrapped her arms around him. He remembered the day he'd found her, she was like he was once. Sobbing, traumatized. Her parents mangled bodies laid at the base of the tree shed climbed to escape the small pack of Grimm that had tried to reach her as well. It was luck that Adam's group at been traveling through that portion of the forest 4 years ago. Even luckier that the Grimm pack was small, only 3 beowolves. Ursa were trickier to handle so he'd been grateful not to deal with them. It had been half a week since she'd scrambled up the tree and she was half dead.

"What did she want in return?" Blake murmured. Her ears had flattened slightly.

"She said to grow the family and wait for her messengers to bring orders." Adam hummed. "Like I said, she's not so bad."

"But-"

"Don't worry. I got it." With a lopsided smile he adjusted his position so he was facing her, and started squeezing her cheeks between his fingers. "Now smile! I've been gone for weeks and the first thing you do when I get back is mope."

She swatted at his hands with indignance, smacking his arms until he relented and stood up. "You came back with new cuts on your arm! "

Adam lifted it high, "powerful cuts that can control Grimm! Last one back to camp hangs laundry tomorrow!"

"Not fair, you were gone and haven't done it for weeks!" Blake shouted appalled. Even so she quickly caught up, always faster than he was.

I'm rusting on properly writing scenes instead of trying to sketch them but this was a fun exercise.

#rwby rewrite #molten rambles #idk if i should tag characters just in case #but yeah no romance between them this time #just found family that ends in tragedy #rwde #rwby critical #just in case

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cyberhai · 1 year

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What is Chinooks relationship with the other winds like? Oh and his relationship with bladewolf and armstrong if you don't mind.Sorry if I go a bit off topic,I just want to talk about how cool and stylish you made him look.

Man looks stylish as fuck with his glasses but I like on how he wears them to help with his migraines. Two reasons to wear cool as hell glasses.

Chinook's character design is *mwah* chefs kiss.(I'm a sucker for good character design if you can tell.)

Also,love your art btw. I feel your struggle of getting used to digital art.

To sum it up,chinook is amazing and I want to give him a hug.

Ok,that's all I have to say,your oc is awesome.

RAAAAAAARRRGGGGHHH Sorry this took a thousand years to answer, I am still Inventing Chinook Lore. This was a fun question though!!!! And I'm so glad you think he's purty 😎

Relationships!

Bladewolf

He’s not quite sure whether to treat Wolf like a machine or a living thing. Nevertheless, he loves jokingly testing the extent of Wolf’s intellect by asking him irritatingly specific questions (“What happens at 1:24:57 of Django Unchained?”).

Mistral

Best described as MLM/WLW Hostility. Most of their frenemyship involves them bullying each other. But if they’re training a platoon together and he blacks out from a migraine, within five seconds, she’ll have the room cleared, a cold compress on his head and be calling for backup. They’re mean as fuck to each other. But they’re homies :D

Monsoon

To say the least, their relationship confuses the fuck out of everyone. Do they have something going on? Are they just work buddies? Sometimes they can be spotted sitting shoulder to shoulder despite Chinook's touch aversion, marking up a map of their next target together. Other times they're bickering like an old married couple. More than one time Chinook has crashed out and fallen asleep on him flying back to base. Then again, Chinook does that to just about everyone. Most Desperados have adrenal enhancements that allow them to stay awake for longer periods of time without rest, but not Chinook. He's much more machine than Sam, but not as much as his fellow Winds. Thus, he is a sleepy fuck.

They've been spotted on a few weekend trips to DC together, seemingly unrelated to work. But, hey, they could just be scoping out the Pentagon.

Sundowner

These two are total bros. They’re both former Army, Chinook was a combat medic and Sunny D was a grunt, so they bond over shared experiences and swapping war stories. Chinook keeps up a pretty professional demeanor unless he and Sundowner are in the same room. Many a time one of them has been leading training or giving potential customers or recruits a tour of their facility, only for it to be interrupted by the other running up and slapping him upside the head. Chinook sort of bounces off his energy when they're around each other and swears 3x more than usual.

Their dynamic was inspired by some of the drill sergeants and NCOs I trained under during my very brief military experience, they were always messing with each other. One second our senior drill sergeant is smoking the platoon because someone mouthed off in formation, then third platoon’s drill sergeant creeps up behind him and kangaroo kicks him in the ass, then they’re giggling and fistfighting while us trainees are dying in the halfway down pushup position. I miss those mfs. 🥲

Jetstream Sam

Chinook was the one who designed and helped install Sam's arm. They're not AS close as the rest, as Sam's still relatively new, but they clicked pretty fast after the initial Arm Incident. Chinook is a big military history nerd, so he was eager to learn about Sam's samurai family background. They meet up to spar sometimes, whether for actual practice or just for shits and giggles. They're mostly evenly matched in terms of speed and strength, but seven times out of ten their fights still end in Chinook getting his ass handed to him.

Senator Armstrong

Chinook, despite having spent a significant portion of his life working for the government, distrusts and dislikes politicians, and by default is VERY leery of Armstrong. He is civil to him, figuring if the Winds are cool with Armstrong, then he’s gotta be cool with Armstrong too. But the iffiness is still very much there.

#mgr oc #mgrr #mgr #metal gear rising #winds of destruction #metal gear rising revengeance #mgs #mgs oc

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ketone-bodies · 2 years

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How I‘d Improve “Disenchanted”

ALT TITLE: What I Disliked About Disenchanted

Ok so forgive me in advance if this comes out incoherent and unorganized but I really need to let this out cuz this is a brainworm that won’t seem to go away. Now I’m not really a professional writer or anything and I’m basing this all on vibes and trying to figure out what kind of story Disenchanted was supposed to tell. So this is more like a mental exercise for me.

If you don’t wanna see any criticism of this movie, then don’t read. Otherwise, thank you for bearing with me.

So to start off, I’ll get this part out of the way: The animation felt inferior to the original. I get that they used a different animation studio for the sequel but heck, even Nancy’s design looked vastly different from what she looked like in the original for some reason. Did they not have the original model sheets? (This could be a nitpick, they probably wanted her design to look more like Idina). Anyway, would have been nice if they brought back James Baxter’s studio who had worked on the original (that’s a personal gripe I suppose).

Next, the thing with the original movie was that there was a perfect balance between the fairy-tale and real life, something I was also hoping for in the sequel, but instead they ramped up the fairy-tale energy, neglecting the real world aspects, and in the end, felt...cringey (and not in a so-bad-it’s-good way). While my thoughts about this part are a little more vague, I suppose it can be summarized with this: They should have been more willing to explore the deeper, more-real parts of the parent-child relationships in the brighter fairy-tale setting instead of externalizing the whole thing as a purely evil-stepmother-and-Cinderelly-in-a-fairy-tale-world conflict.

The thing with the original movie was that our two main characters ended up discovering what they want, seemingly away from the external conflict with the Evil Queen. The latter’s involvement was simply to move the plot along. Of course, her plot point needed to be wrapped up in the end, but she was barely directly influential during the middle portion of the movie except to have her henchman chase the princess around to kill her. This approach did not happen in the sequel. Instead, the external conflict of having to deal with a magical real-world and evil women trying to one-up each other took so much unnecessary focus and it felt like the setup was inappropriate for something as personal as a mother-daughter relationship. Maya Rudolph’s character had no real stakes with what was going on between Morgan and Giselle. Morgan was only used as a bargaining tool at the very end of the movie as if part of a checklist.

Also the thing with Andalasia magic felt a little phoned in. Did we really need the whole “If magic is brought to the real-world, Andalasia will die” schtick? Or was it just the easiest (and not very narratively effective) way of raising the stakes? Either way the magic appearing in the world didn’t need that explanation. It could have just...happened and we would be able to focus more on Morgan, Giselle and their family. Nancy filling in the fairy godmother role did not require her adopted fairy-tale world to be on death’s door. After all you already had the wishing wand there. There was no need for another explanation.

I also wished they hadn’t shoved Patrick D.’s character to sidelines and make him a complete bumbling fool. Robert was the straight-person in the first film, foil to Giselle, why suddenly take that out of his character and then render him a side character in a movie about his family? His involvement with the conflict between Giselle and Morgan would have been more compelling if he was his real-world self. Just look at Turning Red and Encanto where the fathers didn’t have such large roles yet helped the main character immensely.

And as much as I love Amy Adams going back forth as evil or good Giselle, perhaps her transformation didn’t have to be so drawn out? It would serve as a challenge for Morgan to understand and appreciate what her stepmother does when she has to deal with a completely evil version of her for a larger chunk/longer duration of the film. Here the Cinderella aspect could have been utilized more effectively, mixed with the realities of non-fairy-tale life.

Next, the music didn’t seem as good. For me, it wasn’t Alan Menken or Stephen Schwartz’s best work, as if, just like the Andalasia magic, the songs felt phoned in. It didn’t give the same energy as the original’s music did and felt more like obligatory creativity (ex. Disney Channel-level of music) than creatively genuine work.

Finally, take out the talking scroll. Alan Tudyk’s Magic Scroll character was completely unnecessary and made me take this film even less seriously. Why did he need to be there? “It could have been an email” as they say, or in this case, magically written instructions. Like those Magic 8 balls except it’s true. Besides, we already had Pip.

Bonus: It looked like it needed a higher budget and more time. Enchanted was such a well-loved and fantastic film but technically took 10 years to make from its very first conception. I’m not sure why but it felt like Disney skimped here when it came to the production value (incl. animation as said earlier). It would suck if it turns out this sequel had a higher budget than its predecessor though, with consideration of inflation.

Those are at least some of my thoughts. Apologies if I poke some bears or whatever. I really wish I liked this movie but I just saw too many problems with it and too many aspects that didn’t suit my tastes or expectations with it, considering Enchanted is one of my favorite Disney movies and whose songs still continue to give me goosebumps when I hear them.

So yeah, I was quite disappointed in this film :(

#disney #disney plus #enchanted #disenchanted #giselle #morgan #i can see why it went straight to Disney +#I mean even Prince Edward had less screentime #that hurt

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teklarn · 3 years

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𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓸𝓸, 𝓲𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾

character(s): izuku midoriya x gn!reader (x katsuki bakugou)

a/n: gosh i love angst (quick note!! i edit to the best of my ability, however it’s easy to miss things, and i type 100 words per minute, so im sorry if i miss some things!) this ain’t a poly relationship btw, i don’t feel like i could write that well (no shame to people who do!! personally i feel like i would butcher it)

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

based off the song: it’s my party by lesley gore

summary: y/n realizes going to katsuki bakugou’s wedding was a mistake

genre: angst all the way shawties

warnings: light cursing, heartbreak, alcohol, one-sided pining (reader), aged up/pro-hero au, sad reminiscing bc ahaha bakugou made us sad :’) and a crap load of references to the song, friend zoning (eesh)

word count: 2,566

ik yall are waiting for a part 2 of brutal and part 3 of you’re not my boyfriend but this idea just struck i had to get it down pls

- - -

“let’s raise a toast to our finest lovebirds, my best friend and his wife, katsuki bakugou and ochaco uraraka!” kirishima took a sip of champagne.

you lifted your beverage in unison with the others seated at your table but did not drink. you blinked down at the fizzing beverage.

“we wish you all the best,” kirishima said. “you and your best buds have no doubt you two’ll be known as some of the most indestructible symbols of peace.”

another wave of applause passed among the crowd. the last toast was finished and the music resumed. your entire table left you sitting. it wasn’t like you knew anyone here, anyways. nobody except for the few classmates bakugou was still in touch with.

those people consisted of izuku midoriya, who was sitting at the table across from you, as well as across the dance floor.

the lights twinkled up again, red, blue, and green flashing along the floor.

you couldn’t deny it. bakugou in a red suit, uraraka in a wedding dress fell just above her knees, a red bow tied around her waist. you did not doubt that if you were to be sold as a healthy person on the black market, that dress would still be worth more than you.

the only comfort you had was midoriya, who had greeted you when you came in, but the two of you had exchanged no further words. but he looked equally as miserable as you.

uraraka and bakugou were perfect together. they looked happy. and you were happy to see bakugou happy. happy to see uraraka happy with him.

bakugou dipped his newlywed wife to the beat of the music. her back arched perfectly into his large hands.

what hurts the most was that, while you wished it was you instead of her on that dance floor, you knew it wouldn’t work out.

not that you and bakugou wouldn’t have worked out. the two of you were a perfect couple!

what hurts the most was that it was a wish, and in every near universe, you still didn’t have that ring.

uravity and dynamight simply looked...happier.

you stormed out, shaking. why was your katsuki kissing her? holding her when it should have been you?

deep down, you knew you had no right. you and bakugou were barely a couple. throughout his years at yuuei, he’d calmed down immensely. so much that he could strike up a conversation with nearly everyone. as it turns out, introverted katsuki bakugou was a shameless flirt.

the two of you exchanged flitting glances from time to time, but it was never anything serious. at least to him, it wasn’t.

you knew he’d never taken the flirting seriously, and you also knew about his aching feelings for uraraka. how he covered his mouth whenever she walked by. how his voice raised just a bit, and how soft his eyes got.

you shouldn’t have been surprised. he never even hinted that he might have had romantic feelings for you.

the entire room erupted with applause as he kissed her. the katsuki bakugou, kissing someone? pfft, only in dreams.

for some, the dream would be good. like uraraka, who had shamelessly kissed him back.

for you, it was a complete nightmare.

the blaring music, the lights, the balloons, the ‘happy graduation class of 1-A!’

you drowned it all out. you curled your knees to your chest. you had no right to be hurt. not at all. they were his emotions. you had no control over them.

loneliness clouded over you. your chest screamed with longing. a longing to be held. be wanted by him.

you were alone. nobody was coming to comfort you. nobody was-

the door opened, clicking shut just as quickly. someone sniffled.

your eyes flicked up from your knees.

“y/n? i...i’m sorry, i had no idea anyone was out here...i can leave...”

“it’s alright, izuku.”

izuku took a swig from a bottle containing something much heavier than champagne.

that same tug in your chest came about. you were tired of seeing the billboards, the magazines. tired of seeing the unquestionably perfect relationship, perfect love bloom right before you.

dynamight and uravity this! dynamight and uravity that!

the music was loud enough, the lights were busy enough, and the people were ignorant enough to neglect your crying figure.

this was supposed to be my party. he loved me first.

“you okay?” you asked, swiping your nose.

izuku looked back at the graduation party. “no, y/n. i’m not.”

“then we’re both absolute shit.” you let him help you up. “why’re you crying?”

“just...just uraraka.”

“for me it’s just bakugou.”

just as bakugou had calmed down during his years at yuuei, izuku had earned a sense of sarcasm. “are they just oblivious or stupid?”

“goodness, izuku,” you joked, pressing a hand to your shuddering chest. “calling uraraka stupid?”

he gave you a sad side-smile. you listened in silence as the upbeat music played on.

“i guess we’re the stupid ones.” he sighed, chest heaving a little.

“i guess,” you agreed. he pulled you into a hug, and you let the tears flow. your sobs corrupted your chest as you curled into his arms. “why? why did it have to be her?”

“not all heroes end up happy, y/n.”

you looked up at him, eyes puffy, sniffling. “why can’t we be part of that small portion of heroes who are?”

izuku looked up, trying to neglect the water pooling in his own eyes. “i guess...well, not to be a narcissist—” he let out a breathy chuckle, “―but if you noticed, all the greatest heroes die with some kind of regret.”

“maybe i don’t want to be a good hero.” you ignored his efforts to lighten the mood.

“heroes don’t always get to choose whether they’ll be good or not. some things just happen.”

“i’m sorry, izuku.” you swiped at your eyes. “you’re hurt just as badly as me. i don’t want to make it—”

“hey.” izuku gently pried your hands away from your face, fingers ghosting over your wrists. his emerald eyes gleamed as they stared into yours. “don’t invalidate your feelings just because of me. we’re both hurting, but that doesn’t mean i won’t listen to you.”

your sobs came back again, and you fell into his chest.

bakugou spun uraraka, laughing gently as she twirled in his arms. his eyes lit up whenever he saw her. they twinkled. he sparkled. his smile was dazzling. and he was everything you never had.

you were a heartbroken mess, even after all these years. there was a list of all the reasons you were mad at him, and yourself.

your sobs were almost uncontrollable, and at this point, you were shocked nobody came to check on you. not that you cared very much. even if you were making a small effort to hide your face, it still would have been nice to feel a touch on your shoulder, someone perhaps shaking you gently to make sure you were awake.

not that you’d tell them what was wrong. you just wanted to know somebody cared, and to have the option to talk to somebody if you needed to do so.

but here you were. cheesy, upbeat fifties music echoed along the walls of the room. bakugou had secretly adored artists from back then, and you’d often catch him dancing and singing along to long-forgotten oldies.

if you weren’t his best friend, you would have blown off coming here and binge-watched ‘my best friend’s wedding’ and sobbed.

your head was down, forehead leaning on the backs of your forearms stacked upon each other. tears were streaming down, your shoulders shuddering with each weak breath sucked in and released.

until bakugou chose you, you had no reason to smile. at least not now. by no means were you desperate. love sometimes did that to people. made them look needy, look unwanted.

you’ve had plenty of options in the past, but the one person who you wanted didn’t want you back. didn’t even care.

since the graduation party, uraraka and you had been a bit tense. a part of her felt like she knew how you felt, and how bakugou mattered to you more than anyone in the world.

after the first year, she began abandoning izuku and ignoring his emotions towards her. after she and bakugou found each other, they had already known they would settle with one another.

you and izuku had never been close, but you were both good friends and were there when you needed one another.

he had walked you through your pain of senior year, and you’d helped him reach a lot of his goals, too. but bakugou just didn’t seem to care anymore. not even about becoming the number one hero. he looked at uraraka like she was his goal, his new dream, the reason he was happy. he looked at her and saw that he had the world in his hands and wanted to keep it that way.

you? you were pluto. exiled from the rest of the planets. exiled from the rest of his options, when you used to be his first.

“y/n?”

you and izuku backed away from each other. you’d both been crying for quite a bit. how long it had been, you were both unsure.

uraraka now stood at the door. you peeked into the window, leaning back a bit and catching glances of the blonde, who was currently being clapped on the back by his friends, congratulated for ‘getting the girl’.

“are you guys okay?’ uraraka asked.

“would you cry, uraraka?”

she tilted her head. “what?”

you pushed yourself off of izuku. “do you think you’d cry if you saw me kissing him, too?”

“what’re you―”

“you would cry, too! you would be sobbing!” you stabbed an accusatory finger at her. “you were my friend! you knew how i felt, and you’re kissing him?”

uraraka’s eyes widened. “i...i’m sorry. it all just happened, and i—”

“shut the hell up, uraraka. you ruined this party. for me and izuku.”

perhaps you went a bit far, but in your heart and your mind, you knew she deserved it. she knew. uraraka had known.

izuku gave uraraka a sympathetic look before pressing a hand to your back and leading you away.

it still came as a bit of a shock that uraraka had let bakugou invite you to their wedding. gosh. little, domestic bakugou, sealing invitations and batting his eyes at his oh-so-sweet wife so he could invite his best friend.

little domestic uraraka sweetly kissing her fiance on the cheek and pouting as she said, “how can i say no?”

it was disgusting, and everything you wanted to have with him.

you allowed yourself to be selfish this one time. after all, you deserved it. you’d endured hours of bakugou blabbering on about how sweet uraraka was. everything you weren’t.

you took the bottle to champagne. your ankles were aching as you stumbled out of the room. your vision blurred, becoming foggy with tears. not one person stopped you. you guessed because nobody noticed.

like graduation night, you slumped down right outside the doors to the party, the music, lights, and laughter muffled. the only difference was that you had a bottle of champagne and the man of your dreams was gone. for good, this time.

“i wish she noticed me. it was like, after first year, the uraraka i knew just vanished.”

you nodded. you and midoriya were wandering the streets, cool air brushing down your neck and on your face as cars passed.

“uraraka was so sweet, but she lost feelings so fast and...ugh.” midoriya ran a hand through his hair, ruffling his curls. “i’m still a bit...baffled. i know people change, but she and kacchan both switched up so fast.”

“i don’t want to say they’re jackasses, but they’re kind of jackasses.”

izuku rubbed your shoulder as you leaned on him while the two of you walked. “don’t say that.”

“sorry,” you breathed.

“no more being sorry. being sorry all the time leads to shit like this.”

you chuckled. “yeah, it does.” you sniffed. “did i take you away from the party? you can go back if you want.”

he shrugged. “’s all right. i don’t mind.”

“do you want to be here or would you rather be in there?”

“out here with you. i can’t be there right now.”

“me too.”

“let me guess.”

you looked up and scoffed softly.

“this was supposed to be your party?”

you nodded. “my party, my groom. i’m not supposed to be crying at my party, am i?”

your friend shook his head. “not at all. cheer up, y/n.”

izuku slid down the wall, sitting beside you. he rested his arms on his knees, twisting open his own bottle of champagne. “you look like a mess.”

“and you look like you need anger management.” you smiled.

he grinned back. “do i now?”

“yeah, you do. you should have seen yourself sitting there. all alone, the one person drinking something that wasn’t the fifty-thousand yen drinks.”

“54,795.75 yen, to be exact.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re insane. you kidding me? why do you know that?”

“i was the weird kid who took notes on everyone in the class. of course i would know this. i’m offended you think i wouldn’t.”

you tilted your head back in laughter. “gosh, izuku.”

“mhm.”

there was a pause. comfortable silence filled the space, broken by you sigh after gulping down your drink. “so they’re gone?”

“i’d rather not dwell on it.”

“how old are we now?”

izuku gave a breathy chuckle. “twenty-five.”

you smiled. “really, now? and i thought i would be married by now.”

“me too. ‘s a shame.”

“how about, if we’re both still not married by the time we’re forty, we get married to each other, adopt three children and we become hot parents.”

“three?”

“yeah, we can have a mini hero agency.”

“that’s horrifying. but i agree. having a mini hero agency would be pretty amazing.”

“i’m glad you agree with me, izuku.” you brushed a curl from his eyes.

“can’t wait until i’m forty,” he smirked.

“me neither.”

“maybe by then we would have forgotten all of this?”

“we’ll be fighting a villain, and we get our memories erased, and then we fall in love because we wake up beside each other in the hospital. we’re both equally confused.” you peppered him with jokes. “it’s a journey we will go on together.”

“can’t wait until my memory gets erased.”

“do you wanna get out of here?”

izuku shook his head. “it’s their wedding. we can’t. we shouldn’t.”

you gave him a silly look.

“you’re always such trouble, y/n.”

“if you hate it, then wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

izuku’s features softened. “maybe i like it. but only sometimes.” he took your head and lead you out, leaving his drink behind while you took yours.

a single tear rolled down your cheek. he didn’t erase all your pain, nor your feelings for bakugou. it wasn’t what you needed, no.

you just needed a friend. a real one. one that wouldn’t steal your dream from you. and that’s what you knew you had right now.

besides, things could happen in the future, right?

you smiled, and let the cold air touch your skin.

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americxn · 3 years

Text

“What happened? What the hell happened. Why do you make it so hard to love you?”

Kai Anderson x GN!Reader

This is definitely not good enough to enter, but I used the prompt from @tatesimper anniversary writing competition so I guess this is my entry? (fig, I’m so sorry for butchering such a good prompt lmao)

also, I realised when writing it that this could serve as a prologue to this fic:

https://americxn.tumblr.com/post/652835852669648896/paranoia

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: genocide/murder mention, swearing (this is based off episode 11 of season 7)

The night air was cool on your exposed face as you took the front steps to the door of Kai’s house, not bothering to knock as you pushed it open, the warmth and light from within spilling onto the smooth concrete of the front step and pooling around your feet; having been in a committed relationship with Kai from a year and a half now, this house was practically your own. Stepping past the front porch after abandoning your shoes and jacket, you entered the uncharacteristic quiet of the house, scanning the hallway for any signs of life, usually abundant within these walls in the form of Kai’s blue shirt-clad, blindly deferential followers.

“Okay. A little bad news to start,” your body instinctively angled towards the voice, distinctly Kai, that sounded through the empty hall from the back room. You set off down the hallway, his voice growing in volume as you approached, somewhat confused. He hadn’t notified you of a scheduled cult meeting that evening and yet his tone of voice was threaded with the assertive cadence that he utilised only when addressing his followers. “It turns out finding a thousand pregnant women to murder is super hard. No one will ever accuse me of lacking ambition.” He continued as you reached the threshold to the large room at the back of the house that served as a secondary living room; breath catching in your throat, you halted, your hand reaching for the wood of the doorframe to steady yourself as the meaning of his words settled into you. To murder? “So, Night of a Thousand Tates is off.” A ripple of groans and dejected sighs rose from the small sea of men at Kai’s words, quickly falling silent to allow him to continue. “But, Night of One Hundred Tates is on.” His words sent a wave of prickly dread spider walking down your spine; he hadn’t told you about any of this. Killing a thousand pregnant women? You wanted to stride into the room with a bright laugh to wave away his abhorrent words and demand for the real reason that he had called a meeting. But you knew. A terrible, truth filled part of you was all too aware that he was deadly serious A chorus of thrilled cheers drifted up from the small crowd in twisted elation with the newly revealed knowledge that their hands would still be stained with blood by the end of the night. Your breath became too loud in your ears, your mouth turning utterly dry as you examined your suddenly empty mind for a solution to Kai’s monstrous plan that you could use to convince him to call it off. But you came up short, taking a small step back into the safety of the dimly lit hall, your back coming to press against the wall beside the open doorway to ensure that nobody would be able to see you eavesdropping from within. This was too far. Kai had done many questionable, twisted things over the past year but this... this was too far. You were full of self hatred for the amount of things that you had stood aside for and let Kai go ahead with, but not this. You refused to take so much of an ounce of accountability for this. Pulling your phone from the confines of your back pocket, you drew in a shuddering, grounding breath, your thumb working on the keypad. The digit shook as it pressed onto the screen, your teeth catching between your lower lip as your gaze flicked from the brightness of the device’s screen to the open doorway at your side. The sequence of 911 you had typed glared up at you, bathing the underside of your jaw in artificial light as you craned your neck, leaning forwards slightly to peer into the room. Kai stood by the far wall, his men arranged in a neat group before him, all sitting straight backed to attention on their chairs. Just behind Kai, displayed on the low table pushed against the wall were two silicone models of a woman’s torso, ripe with the swell of a baby within; one was positioned to the side as a cross sectional diagram, the other facing straight on, the small model of a baby in the third trimester curled up within the artificial uterus. Your attention snapped back to Kai as he took a step forwards to address the group. “Look under your chairs, I’ve handed each of you a unique list of targets, all ready to pop.” Your stomach twisted in horrified disbelief as the men all shifted in unison, pleasure curling the corners of their lips upwards as they read the names of the people they were soon to mercilessly slaughter. You watched with teary eyes as an impressively built, stocky man who you didn’t know the name of slowly lifted his hand to the ceiling, Kai’s eyes immediately flicking to him in agitation. “You raise your hand one more fucking time and I will cut it off.” The powerfully built man visibly shrunk down into his chair at Kai’s hissed statement of reproval but timidly uttered his question of “how do we know they’re all pregnant?” Kai’s eyes flashed in impatient annoyance as he tore his eyes off the man, flicking them briefly up to the ceiling before deigning to answer. “Because Gutterball pulled the rosters of four ob-gyns, two Lamaze classes and a Momtra Yoga over on Main. Great job, Gutterball.” The blond man who went by Gutterball, sat on the front row of chairs close to Kai, beamed in self-gratified delight at Kai’s gracious recognition, lifting a fist into the air in triumph. Kai smiled proudly down at him before turning to address the group as a whole once more. Your eyes flicked down to the bright screen of your phone, the numbers displayed there beckoning. Your thumb twitched, a conflicted frown creasing your forehead as Kai continued on, pulling your attention back to him. “Manson’s family - I admire them, but they did get a little sloppy.” You watched on in nauseating alarm as Kai pulled a large blade from the black sheath at his hip with a flourish, the metal glinting in the light of the room. “Their message got lost in their mess. What we are doing requires more precision. It is imperative that both mother and child are impaled. Don’t fuck this up.” He scanned the gathering before him, gaze as sharp as the knife clutched in his grip before turning to the models behind him. “Aim for the belly button but stab in a downward motion. If you stab straight,” in one fluid motion, he had buried the curved tip of the blade in the portion of the fake uterus just above the baby’s head with a solid thunk, “you miss the baby - and our entire message is lost.” Withdrawing the knife, he turned back to address his cult, the weapon hanging loosely from his fingertips by his thigh. “Tomorrow night, when your blades tear open one hundred pregnant bellies, you will be releasing a power into the universe. Detonating a neutron bomb of truth, blood and amniotic fluid. You will be galvanising an army.” “With their sisters gutted, women everywhere will be forced to react. They can’t ignore an injustice this brutal. They’ll have to rise up, and in their collective rage, they will train it on Senator Jackson, on all incumbents, on any of the people in power who failed to keep us safe. As the most vulnerable are slaughtered, as the pregnant bodies pile up on Senator Jack-off’s watch, we will be surfing an electoral bloodbath straight to Capitol Hill. And then… the White House.” The collection of cult members all voiced their assent in a chorus of whoops and ovated cheers, a nauseating sense of unease dragging it’s claws up the length of your spine. You turned away with hot tears blurring your vision, not wanting to hear more, your phone a heavy weight in your hand and the decision it presented even heavier.

Sat on the edge of Kai’s large bed, your knee couldn’t cease it’s anxious bouncing, your lower lip chewed raw by your teeth. The door swung open suddenly, sending your heart leaping into your throat. Kai stepped into the room, the small smile stretching across his lips broadening as he beheld you perched on the mattress’ edge. “Hey, when did you get here?” He questioned, reaching to tug you to your feet and wrap his arms tightly around you in a warm embrace. “I only got here like five minutes ago.” Your lie was muffled into the thin shirt at his shoulder, his hands splayed flat on your upper back as he held you close to him. Withdrawing yourself from his grasp, you frantically scanned his face, heart sinking at the pleasure dimly glowing in the depths of his dark eyes, pleasure fuelled not by your sudden appearance, but in anticipation of the merciless slaughter that he would be carrying out in mere hours time. “What?” He asked curiously, his head tilting slightly in concern as his smile faded, caught in the grave despondency of the stare you had him pinned under. His tape-wrapped hands settled on his shoulders; shaking him off, you stepped away, your chest bubbling with emotion that was dangerously close to spilling over. Dropping your gaze to the floor, you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, forcing the tears that threatened to flow to stay at bay. Groaning through clenched teeth, colourful sparks flashing through your blocked vision from the force with which you pressed your hands into your eyes, you blindly felt Kai’s warmth as he stepped forwards to comfort you. Dropping your hands, you retreated another step, Kai stilling at the look of stangled confliction latching onto your features. “What happened?” Voice breaking, you brought a hand up to press against your forehead, icy panic unfurling in your gut amongst the turmoil of roiling distress flooding through your insides. Kai looked utterly lost, his eyes boring into yours as he searched for an answer to the question that he couldn’t understand. “What the fuck happened to you, Kai?” His heart splintered at the raw anguish in your choked, lamenting tone, automatically taking a step towards you, wanting nothing more than to smother the emotions swarming your features. “I used to be so, so happy with you.” His lips parted in disbelief as you continued. “I would’ve done anything for you.” You couldn’t help the tears that spilled over, your voice pushing past the quivering of your lower lip and growing in strength, your breaths turning sharp and rasping as they were sucked in between your passionate words. “Y/n…” He didn’t know what to say as he watched you struggle to keep a grasp on coherency. “I don’t know what happened to him. To the Kai that I fell in love with. But he’s gone now. He’s gone and I don’t know how to get him back.” Sorrow gave way to desolate fury as you plowed on, your jaw clenching as you stepped towards him to deliver a harsh shove to his hard shoulders. Kai fell utterly silent, stumbling back slightly under your touch, unnerved and unsure by the eruption of messily confessed words that spilled from you, seemingly out of nowhere. “Answer me.” You demanded gruffly, shoving at his solid frame once more. “I… y/n, I don’t know-” With a third shove, his eyes flashed in agitated warning, silently daring you to repeat the action a fourth time. You did, shoving at him with as much force as you could muster, breathing hard when he took ahold of your wrists, pulling you to him and pouring his branding stare onto you. “Stop.” Your face was flushed, plump tears cutting through your face and dripping from your chin as you plowed on. “What happened, Kai?” His nostrils flared, eyes wide in confusion as he battled to grasp onto your thoughts, to make coherence of the biting words falling from your lips. “What happened? What the hell happened. Why do you make it so hard to love you?” Your ragged breaths filled the sudden silence in the room, the roaring silence infiltrating Kai’s head drowning out all other sense as he stared down at you in cold disbelief, your eyes wild and face screwed with festering ardour, raw and demanding, your lashes damp with bitter tears. A symphony of surprised shouts echoed up the stairs from the ground floor of the house, Kai’s attention snapping to the door at his back and eyes flooding with sharp panic. He released his hold on you as the cries from below grew in volume, laced with alarm. A single gun shot rang out and it was your turn to take ahold of Kai, the tape wrapped tightly around his wrists warm under your fingers. His head whirled back to you, his eyes alight with uneasy confusion, his gaze frosting over. Bringing your face closer to his, you laid a single, lingering kiss to his lips, your own wet against him. “I’m sorry.” You said quietly, several heavy sets of footsteps sounding from behind the door as they thundered up the stairs. Kai’s eyes frantically searched yours as he pulled against your unrelenting grasp, his gaze briefly parting from yours to snap to the door as the sequence of footsteps and shouts grew louder. “But I can’t let you do this.” His throat bobbed, his eyes widening in terror as the reality of the situation settled over him. “I sentence you to rot.” Tugging at his wrists, you forced your face closer to his before muttering to him, your breath hot on his face and the recognition of your betrayal manifesting in the cold fire smoldering in his gaze: “Just like how my love for you has turned to rot.” His face contorted in rage as the bedroom door was forced open, the panel of wood swinging open and hitting the adjacent wall with a bang, several armed policemen flooding into the room. You loosened your grip on his wrists, stepping away as two of the men took ahold of Kai by the back of his shirt, twisting his arms behind his back. He shrieked in rage, straining to turn his head towards his assailants as they began to pull him from the room. Sinking down onto the edge of the bed, you locked eyes with Kai’s as he turned back to you, cool rage simmering in his dark gaze, his lip curled into an enraged snarl. He pinned you with his stare, not even bothering to fight against the men holding him as he was pulled from the room, a savage promise glittering in his unrelenting stare. A promise of vengeance. Of suffering.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @mossybank @tatesimper (dm to be added or removed <3)

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blueeyedgeorgie · 3 years

Text

Scandalous(1)

An infamous Influencer that is known for getting into drama befriends ImAllexx, George doesn’t trust them one bit.

Gif cred. @sdmngifs

Pairing: George Memeulous x Reader

WC: 2.2k+

Pronouns: They/Them

____________

For the entire day, Alex seemed to constantly be on his feet. At first, George really didn't pay much attention to it, after all, sometimes people just have busy days. Usually for George, his days weren't anything special. He'd just wake up and lay around the house. He'd make sure to film a video every couple of days and could be found playing a bit of FIFA or COD.

George didn't have much of a reason to leave his shared flat. He'd usually go over to one of his friend's places to hang out or film a collab, every now and then he'd go out shopping to get a couple of things for a video or just the flat. Still, George wasn't the type of person to find reasons to rush around or try and get as many tasks done as possible, it was one of the many perks that came with being a YouTuber.

It was normal to see Alex running around once in a while. He'd like to go out and do things like playing football with a few of his mates or just going out and being around people. But today seemed different, as though he was planning for something important to happen.

At first, George didn't feel the need to ask his flatmate about what was going on. But while the day rolled on and Alex seemed to only go back and forth from making phone calls to typing away on his computer, George's curiosity had begun to eat himself up from inside.

As the afternoon rolled around, George found himself seated on the couch. He had been wasting a good portion of his day watching whatever he could find on the TV that was actually interesting. Earlier he had filmed a few videos for his second channel, he looked at the Reddit page for usual funny content and then proceeded to go on a Twitter page and look at nostalgic videos and photos for a second video.

Usually with some luck, George would be able to find something good to put on TV, but today just seemed like one of those days where you couldn't find anything good to watch. So as a final resort, he had turned on some Spongebob cartoons, it seemed like he only had enough luck to have the old cartoons from the early 2000's play.

While watching the yellow sponge on TV, George had checked a few of his social medias, wondering if there was anything else that was going on that could possibly hold his attention for longer than ten minutes.

Maybe he just needed a new hobby, something to keep attention for more than five minutes. FIFA was fun, but you could only play it so many times.

"Hey George?"

The sound of his flatmate's voice had pulled him out of his thoughts. Standing behind the couch, Alex was typing away on his iPhone. He had taken a quick look to make eye contact with George before returning to his text messages. Turning around, the brunette man gave his attention to his flatmate, "What's up?"

"I don't know if you remembered, but I'm having someone come out to the UK to spend a couple of days with me to film some collabs and just get to know each other," sliding his phone in his back pocket, Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hopefully this turns out all good."

How did this slip his mind? Alex had been mentioning he was planning to do this with someone for the past couple of weeks. As the days rolled on, when he became busier and busier, it all made sense. Alex was only making sure everything was going to go smoothly when whoever was going to come to the UK.

"Shit, that totally slipped my mind, sorry," George brushed a hand through his hair with a short sigh. "Are they gonna stay with us or are they staying at a hotel? Maybe they're doing something completely different."

"Hotel," as he responded, Alex began to rock back and forth on the heels of his feet. "They're gonna get here in two days and when they show up me and a couple of our friends are gonna go out and get some drinks, just to get more comfortable with one another. You coming with us?"

"I don't see why not," giving a shrug, George leaned his head against the palm of his hand, supporting his head to sit at a certain angle. "Are you interested in this influencer or something, you keep saying you wanna get comfortable with them."

"Well, they aren't really my type. Also, they're gonna be hanging around us for a few days, so of course I wanna be comfortable around them."

"Who even is 'they'? Does this influencer have a name?" George let out another sigh as he looked up at his flatmate.

"They're Y/n L/n."

Y/n L/n, George had heard that name a few times in the influencer world. One thing he knew for sure, Y/n was much bigger than both Alex and George's channels combined. So why was Y/n planning to come and hang around them for a while?

That wasn't the only question rushing through George's mind, from what he had heard about Y/n (which was very little) he knew they were a very scandalous person. Having them around didn't seem like too bright of an idea, maybe Alex just wanted to collab with them to gain a bit more in subscribers... George knew it'd be smart to keep Y/n at arm's length while they'd be in the UK. After all, they'd only be here for a couple of days, so how hard could it be?

"Oh."

"Just 'oh'?" Alex raised a brow at his flatmate, "What is it?"

"Nothing, I just took me a moment to realize who they were," George turned back to face the TV, implying the conversation had come to an end.

"Alright, I'm gonna get back to making sure the flat isn't a typical mess," Alex sighed, taking a step back from the couch.

"Cool," George mumbled as he watching the yellow sponge on TV run beside a pink star.

If Y/n got Alex caught up in anymore drama, he'd have a fit. He had seen his flatmate come so far since the last time drama was in his life. There'd be a chance that would grow bigger and bigger everytime they hung out that Alex could get caught up in a scandal.

Even though Alex's a grown adult, sometimes he could make really stupid decisions. But that was the thing, Alex is a human being, he's allowed to make mistakes. All George wanted for this whole collab to into come back around and bite Alex in the ass. But it was too late, Y/n was going to be here soon and whatever happens, just happens. There wasn't much George could do besides distancing himself away from Y/n.

"Alright, I think I have enough shirts, I better go double-check to see if I have my toiletries all packed up," Y/n had mumbled under their breath in the midst of packing. Even though they were a big YouTuber and could simply pay someone to pack for them, Y/n had decided to pack for this one trip.

"Y/n, where the fuck are you?"

The sound of someone's voice had become louder, Y/n could tell their friend was entering their bedroom.

"I'm just in the bathroom, Bret!" They had responded while looking underneath their bathroom sink for a few more toiletries.

"Are you seriously leaving?" The one and only Bretman Rock stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking down at his friend.

"Well yeah, I've been planning this trip for the past couple of weeks," Y/n looked up at the makeup influencer. Bretman and Y/n had been friends since forever, they had gone through so much together.

"You're gonna miss James's party next Saturday," he moved aside, letting the other influencer in the room past by.

"It's just one party," they had let out a short scoff while working on packaging their bathroom items properly. "James always throws parties, I'll go to the next one."

"Fine bitch," Bretman had tossed himself onto Y/n's bed, making their suitcase jump a little with everything else that had been laid out on Y/n's bed. "Why are you even going to London?"

"Well, I'm planning to meet up with a friend to make some videos together and just hang out," Y/n shrugged as they tucked away a few more items into their suitcase.

"Who?"

"He goes by ImAllexx on YouTube."

Bretman shook his head as he watched his friend, "I have absolutely never heard of them... ever."

"Yeah, his channel is smaller than either of ours."

"Lemme tell you now, if you're secretly doing some long-distance relationship with him and haven't bothered to tell me any tea yet, I will literally kill you," the raven-haired man laid on his back, beginning to fidget with the rings that sat on his fingers.

"I'm telling you now, Bret. Alex is only a friend, he's like a brother," they tsked at their friend as they zipped up their suitcase, finally finishing packing.

"Fine, but if I find out you end up hooking up with some British boys over there and don't tell me... like I said, you'll be dead bitch."

"Calm down, you know I can't keep secrets from you," Y/n flashed a cheeky grin at their friend while sliding the suitcase off of the bed. "I had two hours before I head to the airport, what do you wanna do?" For the past couple of weeks, Y/n had been counting down the days until they would leave for London. No doubt about it, they were excited. It wasn't often for them to make friends with other Influencers or people in general. So when they got the chance to make friends with a small commentary YouTuber that went by the name of ImAllexx, they had made sure to be as kind as possible.

At this point it was truly hard for Y/n to make friends, most people didn't like them based on the rumors that had spread about Y/n. Others that usually tried to be Y/n's friends were merely using them for money and fame. It became hard for Y/n to trust people and get close to them. So how did Alex pull off gaining Y/n's trust?

Y/n one day had been scrolling through YouTube, looking for something to watch. At this point, they had seen almost everything, vlogs, challenges, makeup, drama, and more. But one video had popped up into Y/n's recommended videos that had caught their eye.

'We Need to Stop Y/n L/n.'

It was normal for Y/n to see these types of videos, usually they'd come from Drama channels trying to cancel them. But this one had come from a YouTuber with the name, 'ImAllexx'. It was normal for Y/n to scroll when they came across these types of videos, but the video seemed a bit intriguing considering the thumbnail was only a simple picture of themself against a blue background. So of course, Y/n clicked on the video only to hear; "Hello everyone, I'm Alex..."

Y/n found the video quite funny, when they'd watch videos made on them, the videos were typically quite harsh and mean. With Alex, he seemed like the type of person to be able to take a joke. His whole video was on an Instagram post Y/n had made a week or two before Alex had posted his video, he had just been taking the piss out of the photo as a joke.

And after finishing that video and having a laugh, Y/n continued to watch more of Alex's videos, just to see if he was seemingly a decent guy. And somehow, they got hooked on Alex's videos. And by the end of the day, they had binged a good amount of his content.

A few days after discovering Alex and his content, Y/n had decided to check out a few of his social medias. That's when Y/n had found out he was already following them on both Instagram and Twitter.

When Alex checked Instagram a while later, he was surprised to find that @y/nl/n was now following him. Y/n was almost four times(if not more) the popularity size of Alex, so how had they noticed him? He was a bit nervous at first, why would someone like Y/n follow him?

Instead of anxiety getting the best of Alex, he had decided to do something to try and figure out why of all people, @y/nl/n had decided to follow him. So he had been careful with sliding into Y/n's DMS, only to ask why they had followed him. ANd moments later, Y/n responded to him.

'I've just been binge-watching your content lately and I thought that you were funny so I followed you. :)'

At first, Alex felt like it could possibly be a trap, but he continued to message back and forth with Y/n. After a while, Alex had realized that maybe Y/n wasn't as scandalous and dramatic as people made them out to be. As the days rolled on and they continued to talk, they had ended up developing a friendship.

After a couple of months of talking and coming closer and closer, Alex had asked if Y/n would want to fly out to the UK from LA to film a couple of collabs and hang out in person. Y/n had easily accepted his invitation, and just like that, A date was set for Y/n to fly out to London.

Taglist: @ivory-raptor @breakfast-cereal @snowcones404 @golden-hoax

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oldbay-on-apples · 3 years

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Dystopian Larry Fic Rec

Inspired by some of the lovely people and fic recers on here, I’ve decided to start making my own fic recs. If you’d like, you can request recs in my inbox and I’ll see what I can do <3!

Please read the ratings and tags to these fics (because some of them are dark or have dark themes) and enjoy!

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) by lululawrence - @lululawrence (NR, 36k)

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly. There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere. Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing. Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined. -

I loved the way the magic and technology in this fic intersected in such a unique way and the way the world was built was extraordinary!

red hands by reveries_passions - @dystopianharry (T, 132k)

I’ve never told anyone,” Harry murmurs, voice so soft no one else would be able to hear, if it wasn’t just the two of them. “But you’ve told someone,” Louis says firmly. “And that’s not gonna fucking happen around here. You don’t speak a word of it, or someone’s going to kill you, and we can’t let that happen.” * a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

- The plot of this is just *chef’s kiss* in so many ways! I love the way the characters interact with each other and I’m weak for Niall and Harry’s friendship in this.

Love After the End of the World by writing_practice - @mercurial-madhouse (E 158k)

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?” ----- Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda. When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

This just came out in the most recent Big Bang (that’s still on going so you should definitely check that out) and this fic is so amazing! I think it does a great job of just really immersing you in the world the characters exist in. Love After the End of the World is also a Soulmate AU and I love the way those parts come together. It also has an amazing prologue called PROMETHEUS RISING (M 5k) that I enjoyed immensely set in the same world!

at last, at last by suspendrs - @suspendrs (NR 41k) Locked

“Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”

Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?

Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.

This fic does a great job of making you feel like you’re experiencing with the characters, like I could practically smell what the characters were smelling! The world it’s set in is so cool and the entire fic feels so well thought out and everything is so consistent!

my love will never leave you by we_are_the_same @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (T 10k)

In a world where memories are used as currency, Louis will do anything it takes for Harry to get better.

I loved the idea behind this. Like the entire world is so brilliantly done! And it was all based on ONE word (because of the wordplay challenge). Even though it’s set in a different world everything feels so grounded and realistic and I really really like that about it.

a prayer for which no words exist by Eliane (M 34k) Locked

"Louis is a few seconds away from blowing up a rather important section of the New York subway when he sees Harry for the first time."

In this fic the characters motivations are so clear (to the reader) and I love how it goes from Louis accidentally sort of, kind of, kidnapping Harry to them becoming friends then more. I also love how no matter where they are the fic has a real sense of place. This is part 1 of landscapes of war. The entire series is really good!

Who Painted the Moon Black by throughthedark (E 95k) Locked

“People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”

Louis shakes his head. “I don't know. It just does.”

Hunger Games AU where Louis Tomlinson is district six's victor from the 69th Hunger Games and Harry Styles is district seven's victor from the 72nd Hunger Games.

This fic is a hunger games AU that both people who have and haven't read/watched the Hunger Games can enjoy. I like how it explores the world of the Hunger Games in a way that isn’t explored in the Hunger Games canon. It’s really intense (like the E is for the darker themes and violence) and I enjoy it a lot. There is a happy ending (as the author assures in the tags) and I really enjoy all the struggles that the characters go through.

Nobody Marks You by graceling_in_a_suit @graceling-in-a-suit (T 33k)

“The plan is: we’re gonna put on a play. Now, I see some doubtful faces–” Louis looked around and found zero doubtful faces. Liam looked intrigued, Zayn looked bored, and Harry looked scarily blank. “But this is what’s happening. We’re gonna do some fucking acting, we’re gonna perform our hearts out, and we’re not going to think about anything else. The past, the future; none of it. All we’re going to think about is... “ Niall trailed off, eyeing the bookshelf to his left. He closed his eyes and reached a hand out towards it, running his fingers over the covers before pulling a book out at random. “William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.”

AU: Five assholes stuck in a bunker put on a play.

This is one of my absolute favorite fics. I just love the way the characters interact and they way the story is told. It’s nonlinear so you jump around in time and it shows the way the character's relationships change throughout. I’m a sucker for Much Ado About Nothing and though you don’t need to read it to fully appreciate the fic I think the use of the play throughout is genius.

@1dfanfictionbookcovers has a really cool cover for the fic as well HERE

With a whimper by kitundercover @kitundercover (M 132k)

Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger.

---

The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.

Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.

“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”

Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”

The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”

The thing this fic does really does is showing emotional reactions. Louis’ inner monologue is so well done and I really like the plot of the story.

these bountiful silences by tommoandbambi (T 123k)

they live in a world where they can only say four words per day. harry meets some people that don't want to live that way.

I really, really, really, like this plot and the story! The world that the characters exist in is so interesting and I just love the way in which it is a dystopia.

#my fic recs #Dystopian Larry fic rec #Larry Fic Recs #Dystopian Fic Recs #fic recs

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

Text

Sword and Shield 3

Summary: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Chapter 2: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/653202473626025984/sword-and-shield

Warning: Mentions of previous abuse/trauma, and an injury.

3: Integrate

Nervously, you bit your lip and tugged at your hair. You’d secured it so it would stay out of your face for the mission, and you’d already gone over the notes you’d taken the previous day as you’d gotten ready for the day. Dressed in your gear, you double-checked that you had everything.

The whole crew had gathered in the cockpit while approaching the mission site to receive orders from Hunter.

“Tech, tell them the layout and strategy.”

Tech adjusted his goggles and pulled up a holoscreen. “Our mission is to obtain some information that’s been stored in a vault underneath this Separatist bunker,” he said, pointing at the map. It zoomed in on the bunker’s location, revealing the armored doors.

“It’s only going to be there for one day before it’s supposed to be moved, so we have to move in on this intel as soon as possible,” Tech continued, laying out the stakes. “This might be our only chance to get our hands on his information, especially since this base is out in the middle of nowhere. It’s held in the base, but there’s not much of a guard around the bunker itself.”

“So how are we getting in?” Wrecker asked, clearly eager to get to the plan.

“The biggest problem is going to be getting in. Once we’re in, it’ll be a quick and easy trip to the vault. There’s a holopad right by the doorway. I need a running distraction to let me get close enough to hack it and get us in.” Tech adjusted his glasses.

“Cross will find a point to pick off whoever comes in and out of those doors,” Hunter spoke up, focused on piloting while he listened. “Wrecker, we’re going to need you to try to run as big of a distraction as possible and keep them occupied. Tech will get close to the door, and I’ll follow behind him as close as possible to watch his back while he’s hacking the keypad.”

Tech turned to you, observing you. “We don’t know much about your skills yet. Do you see a place that would best suit you?”

You thought for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as you ran though the plan in your mind. “I’ve studied the footage and information you gave me yesterday,” you said, slow but even. “Considering the way we’re approaching this, I think I should be most useful if the Sergeant uses me as a weapon. Since I’m versatile and can be changed depending on what the situation requires, the close combat might be best for me. Plus, once we’re in, I might be able to help clear a path.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” Hunter said crisply. “Hold on, we’re entering the atmosphere.”

Everyone grabbed onto something or strapped in as the descent began, and you grabbed onto a hanging strap, bracing your feet. You caught sight of Wrecker turning to you, and you glanced up at him instinctively.

“Oh, hey, thanks for the food yesterday!” he called over the rattling, grinning so wide that you swore you could count his teeth. “It was really good!”

The comment took you off guard, and you had to grab onto another strap to keep yourself from sliding against the floor. “Y-you’re welcome,” you called back, feeling some heat creep up your neck and cheeks. You supposed that answered your question about whether they’d at least found the portions.

Hunter evened the ship out as you broke through the atmosphere, leveling out and beginning to more smoothly descent. Everyone relaxed again, checking gear and preparing for the landing itself.

You took in a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment in order to mentally prepare yourself. You’d have to create a Transference Bond with the Sergeant, so it would take a moment. You only opened your eyes once you felt the landing gear hit the ground and the ship settle in landing.

Hunter stood once the process was complete, turning. “Let’s go.” Once at the ramp, he turned to the group. “Gear and Plan?” He checked. Running his eyes over everyone and getting their confirmation, he turned to you. “Commander Rex explained a little of the process of Transference Bonding to me to give me a basis of understanding. I suppose it wouldn’t be the best idea to do it all at once.”

You shook your head. “I could, but it’s easier to do it one by one to give me a distinction between each Bond,” you answered, knowing the importance of explaining how you worked.

He nodded. Taking a breath, he held out his hand to you. “I suppose it’s time. Everyone watch and listen closely for when you have to do it yourself,” he ordered.

You nodded back, straightening. “You have to offer your hand and say ‘Permission to Transfer.’ It begins the process for me to able to start Transference.”

Hunter stared at you, focused. “Permission to Transfer,” he repeated in a firm, even tone.

You let the sensation of the sucking whirlpool in your gut start to grow stronger, stirred by the initiating words. Deliberately, you reached out and grasped his hand. “Once I finish the initiating words, you’re going to feel a strange sensation like you’re absorbing something into your body. Don’t fight it, just let it happen so I can stabilize the connection,” you warned. “If you feel anything like a weird snap or push in the back of your head, that’s just the Bond solidifying.” You took in a deep breath. “The more open you let yourself be towards me, the stronger the connection.”

Hunter nodded in understanding.

You closed your eyes. “Transfer Granted,” you said, finishing the circuit. Again, you worked through the suctioning sensation, allowing your body to Shift into a basic form you knew very well. Opening your eyes once the sensations settled, you checked the Bond and stability of your connection.

Hunter had been surprisingly receptive compared to most first-time Handlers, and you found the Bond to be pretty sturdy all things considered. As soon as you feel comfortable, getting used to the new Handler, you let yourself materialize over his shoulder.

“I usually start out with a standard blaster,” you said, your voice a little wispier than normal as you pointed at the blaster in his hand.

He stared down at the weapon, turning it over in his hands. “I can hear you both out loud and like... like an echo in my head,” he remarked, voice a little terse.

You nodded. “It’s part of the Bonding. You can communicate with me out loud, but in cases when silence is required or for quick-time response, there’s a limited mental connection created. You can either speak in words or visualize, whichever comes more easily to you. That’s also how you can customize me as a weapon, by visualizing or describing to me the specific modifications that you want,” you explained, used to the process by now. “I don’t read your mind, you have to sort of... push them towards me, in a sense. It’s a limited connection,” you added, knowing the trepidation of the idea of someone possibly being able to read your mind.

He relaxed a little at that, and a blurred image started to bloom in the back of your mind. You tilted your head, and slowly the image started to crystallize as Hunter got used to the Bond and the communication. You picked up on the request, and between one breath and the next, you had Shifted into a modified blaster specifically balanced to his preference.

You took in a breath. “Please be patient with me,” you requested. “It takes me a little while to become completely accustomed to your particular fighting styles in order to best accommodate to your strengths. It may take me some time in the beginning.”

Wrecker bent forward, squinting at you. “Hey Shiv — I can call you that, right? — why do you look so... blurry?”

Tech adjusted his goggles. “It’s more like she’s a shadow, Wrecker,” he remarked clinically, observing you closely. “I think it’s the only way she can manifest herself since she’s technically the weapon itself.”

You nodded at him. “Tech is right. It’s kind of my astral form,” you confirmed.

“Cool!” Wrecker grinned at the general vicinity of your face.

“Alright, let’s go,” Hunter said, starting down the ramp and off towards the direction of the base.

You mentally picked apart the details of the modified weapon he’d shown you, making sure your copy of it was exact down to the weight and size. You tried your best to recall all the footage you’d analyzed the day before, specifically the patterns you’d noticed and highlighted about the Sergeant. You’d have to try to accommodate yourself to his movements and attempt to predict his preferences in weaponry and how he chose to utilize it. That way, you could start to make your performance seamless and save precious nanoseconds of response time that could mean the difference between life and death.

He glanced down at you, feeling the slight shift in the weight as you adjusted. A distant voice sounded in the back of your mind. If I wanted to change weapons, how would I ask?

You strained to hear. Project a little more towards the area you feel like the Bond is. You coached. You’re a bit faint.

He repeated the question, and it sounded much clearer and louder.

Thank you. I can hear better. The best way is to either mentally request it, or to visualize it again like you did to modify this blaster. Whichever is easier for you. You responded to his question.

I tend to visualize things when thinking. Hunter said. I think that’s how it’ll probably come across.

I understand, you acknowledged. After all, different people worked differently. Luckily, you’d worked with both visualizers as well as stream-of-consciousness, full word or sentence thinkers. I’m only limited by the amount of information you give me. I can Shift in nanoseconds, but if you don’t make sure to specify everything, it might be incomplete or a little different than what you wanted. You warned.

He nodded wordlessly, just as you came up to the clearing where the base was. The planet itself was rather forested, and the base had been set in the middle of a small clearing, half-hidden from above by the tree canopy. You briefly wondered how much intel had been needed in order to even find this place, much less know when and how long the intel would be shipped through this base anyway.

Two guards stood by the door, holding electro-spears with blasters at their sides. You didn’t doubt that there were probably more stationed within the base as well that would probably stream out like a disturbed ants nest once a confrontation began.

“Alright,” Hunter hissed lowly, gathering everyone’s attention. Cross, find a spot. You’ve got three minutes. Wrecker, get ready to run distraction. Yes, you can blow the ground sky-high for all I care, just make it big enough and keep their attention for as long as you can. Tech, get ready to slip around once Wrecker has them occupied.”

A sudden idea occurred to you. Cloaking shield. You whispered to Hunter, sending across a visualization of your possible contribution.

He instantly pounced on the idea. “Shiv is going to create a cloaking shield, get over here,” he hissed to Tech, who stepped closer to Hunter’s side. “We’ll use this to get as close as possible. If our cover’s blown, I’ll back you up.”

Tech nodded, pushing the visor of his helmet down in preparation. A minute later, Hunter nodded. “Let’s go.” He motioned to Wrecker.

With a booming laugh that you swore rattled through your currently nonexistent bones, Wrecker took a running leap into the clearing and slammed his fists into the ground. Chunks of earth went flying, and just as expected, the two armored guards started to run towards him. As soon as Hunter decided they were distracted enough, he motioned decisively.

You Shifted, creating the cloaking shield large enough for both him and Tech to fit under. Hunter started to move around the edge of the clearing, trying to stay a bit away from the flying rubble as Wrecker pulled out his grenades. You tried your best to keep monitoring, materializing over Hunter’s shoulder in order to keep eyes out for the flying rubble that might cause you to lose concentration if it hit the shield too hard or unexpectedly.

“How long can you hold it?” Hunter hissed, trying to stay quiet but let Tech in on the conversation.

“As long as nothing directly damages or hits me, as long as you need,” you whispered back. “But I expend more energy the larger of a weapon or shield that I am required to be.”

He nodded, helmet focused forward. You’d almost reached the doors, and the doors had cracked open to briefly allow backup to wriggle through.

“There’s going to be a risk,” you warned them as you reached the keypad. “I can’t hide the fact that the keypad is going to disappear from view or be tampered with. If anyone notices, the cover is blown.”

Hunter nodded. “Tech, you know how fast you can work. Concentrate, we’ll give you cover.”

Tech nodded, instantly pulling out some gear and hooking himself up to the keypad.

Hunter started filtering information to you about various weapons and their modifications he preferred to use, and you started instantly absorbing the information. To your surprise, you found that his visuals were extremely detailed, to the point that you almost started feeling them yourself. Everything in his head felt so much... crisper. So much more. You realized that it did make sense, considering his heightened senses. Everything would feel that much more to him, so it would naturally be transferred to you, especially considering your Bond.

Send me your Instincts, you whispered to him mentally.

What?

You let your astral form float a little in front of him, then pointed to his hands. Push across every instinct that you can towards the Bond. Channel them straight to me. Let your thoughts and instincts flow straight through the Bond, like a stream rushing by.

Hunter glanced at you, keeping an eye out for the distraction Wrecker was running. Crosshair had begun to snipe them down one by one, you vaguely noted. What does that do?

You started to feel him direct towards you, trying your best to accommodate and map out the way his instincts were honed. I am a living weapon, Sergeant, you reminded him. If a weapon could understand your instincts and become a part of your body, an extension of yourself, able to work with your thoughts in real time, what would you do with that? How would you shape that weapon and use it? I am a tool. I am a weapon, under your control. Please use me. This is my job.

Sometimes, the words felt like betrayal, coming from your own mind and mouth. Even though you knew you had worth, were more than just an object, you also knew that your part in this war and what you fundamentally were as a being was... a weapon. A weapon to be utilized to devastating effect. To kill, or to protect... to shield, or to destroy.

I am a weapon. You are a Handler. I will be used however you decide.

Hunter’s eyes hardened as he glanced at your form, and you felt his fingers tighten around the handle of the cloaking shield. But he said nothing and continued to funnel everything like a rushing stream into the Bond.

Tech hissed. “I’ve got it.”

The doors slid open, revealing an empty hallway.

Hunter stepped forward. “Get in, now, before anyone notices,” he barked.

Tech and Hunter quickly stepped in, heading down the corridor.

Blaster, Hunter requested.

You Shifted, allowing the cloaking shield to disappear. The three of you crept down the hallway, Tech leading the way as he glanced down at the map of the base he’d managed to strip. He fiddled with his controls as he led down the twisting hallways, opening doors as necessary.

“The intel holding should be just past this door,” Tech whispered tersely, holding his device up to the blast doors. The infrared picked up several life forms, and when he switched to x-ray, a couple of droids showed up on the screen.

“Those are assassin droids,” you whispered urgently, recognizing the shape and build.

Hunter nodded grimly. “Tech, once the doors are open, go for the others. We’ll handle the droids.”

You leaned toward Hunter’s ear. “Weaken the head plates and use a vibro-shiv to get to the cores,” you whispered, knowing how those droids worked. You’d lost Handlers before thanks to the stupid droids and their required close-combat.

Hunter nodded, and the doors started to open. As soon as they’d opened wide enough, Tech followed Hunter’s nod and slid around the corner. They both started to shoot at the same time. A few of the organic soldiers dropped thanks to getting caught in crossfire from the assassin droids, and Hunter started to target the head plates of the droids.

You quickly picked up on his flow of movement, correcting for precision aiming and knocking plates loose from the droids. Three of them started converging on you, and Hunter shouted at Tech.

“Get to cover!”

In a heartbeat, you’d Shifted into the vibro-shiv and he’d slashed at the wiring under one of the droid’s loose plates. It started to stagger, some of the support lost. Kicking out at the other, Hunter quickly managed to incapacitate the other two enough to slash at their wires as well. It didn’t take long for them to stagger about, losing some of their motor functions.

Tech found an opening and managed to nail one droid right in the exposed core, downing it in a shower of sparks. Hunter sank the shiv into another core, but you’d already caught sight of the last droid starting to point its blastered hand.

Hardly thinking, you bulked the weight of the vibro-shiv and made Hunter drop at the unexpected weight, barely missing the blast that went over his head. You returned it to normal a second later, and Hunter whirled on his heels close to the ground and threw.

You pointed the shiv with deadly accuracy, making it sink directly into the center of the exposed core. The droid froze, shuddering. For a moment the whole room seemed to freeze as Hunter and the droid faced off. Then the droid crumpled with a screech of metal, collapsing on the floor. The shiv shuddered.

Hold out your hand, you whispered to Hunter.

He held out his hand, and the shiv whipped back into his hand as you returned yourself to him. His hand closed over the hilt, and it shifted back into a blaster.

Tech had already scurried over the vault and was quickly working on it, fingers flying over his cracking device. Hunter turned toward the door, pointing the blaster and keeping an eye out.

“Thanks,” Hunter said gruffly. “Back there, with the third.”

The thanks caught you off guard. Why would he thank you? I... It’s my job, was all you could really think to say, thoroughly confused. You were a weapon. Why would he thank you for doing what you were literally born to do?

A flash of anger traveled through your Bond, and you instinctively shrank away though it passed just as quickly as it had appeared. Why would he be angry? Had you done something wrong? Had he not wanted you to correct it? Would it have been better if you’d done it differently?

You tried to refocus, knowing better than to get distracted now. The mission was still underway.

You heard the vault click behind you, then a quick rustle. Tech’s footsteps faltered, then squeaked against the floor.

“We need to go!” he shouted, beginning to sprint. “The vault was rigged! This place is going to blow in T-minus two minutes!”

Hunter had automatically followed Tech, but his pace quickened. “Tech, we’re not going to make it,” Hunter called grimly.

And he was right. It would take you longer to get out than that. There were so many twists and turns. You thinned your lips, materializing over his shoulder.

“Grab Tech,” you said, already Shifting. Hunter lunged forward towards Tech, grabbing him as he threw you down and jumped. You guided yourself to catch both him and Tech as a hoverdisc. A joystick grew from the base, and Tech unquestioningly grabbed it, beginning to guide you down paths so quickly that you barely had time to register any surroundings.

You rounded a corner, and Hunter shouted something. The doors had begun to close. But Tech just hunched over, and flicked a button you provided on the joystick.

“Hold on!” Tech yelled.

You Shifted, closing your eyes in order to concentrate, get it right, there wasn’t room for hesitation or error, you knew this, you could do this-

Heat seared your senses just as you managed to throw up both a shield and the proper mechanics that you’d studied so diligently and meticulously.

You screamed.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that you were flying through the air, the Transference forcefully Dissolved. But all you could really pay attention to was the pain that burned through all of your nerves and senses. The moment you felt yourself hit the ground and roll, all breath was knocked out of your lungs.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you wordlessly clutched at your arm, unable to make a single sound. You knew this had been a risk, the moment you’d done it. You’d only managed to put up the shield just in time to save Hunter and Tech from the blast approaching behind you, but it had been incomplete in your hurry to both throw it up and blow the doors open.

You’d been distracted. And now you were paying for your own mistake.

A half-strangled sob burst from your lips as you peeled your hand away from your arm, digging your hand into the soil underneath you and jacking yourself up. You’d taken damage from the blast, and just as you’d known would happen, it had Transferred to your physical body as well. After all... you were a weapon. And every weapon gets dents and scorch marks in battle. But you knew you were meant to take it. You’d always known you were meant to be the shield for your Handler.

Someone skidded to your side as you hunched over, trying to breathe through the pain. If you could just-

“Maker,” a voice snarled.

Vaguely, you half-registered the voice as Hunter’s. You scrabbled back, throwing out your good hand. “Don’t touch me!” you sobbed out, begging, praying that he wouldn’t touch you.

“Shiv, you need medical attention-“

“Please, don’t touch me, you don’t understand-“ you managed to sob out, shaking and hunching over.

“What happened?” Crosshair’s voice growled from nearby.

“Shiv-“ Hunter’s voice barked.

But you staggered to your feet, trying to just focus, you needed to focus- your ears rang. Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to push. You were a weapon. You did not fail your Handler. You got back up. You took the consequences, you will take the pain, you will do your kriffing job-

A shuddering gasp tore from your throat as you felt yourself begin to work. You could feel the numbing ice of cold gunmetal creep up your mangled arm, could fairly smell your hissing flesh as you covered your arm slowly but ruthlessly.

Numbness. You barely felt anything, now, except for a vague pressure on your arm. Letting out a half-broken sob, shuddering, you reached up and smeared tears away from your face. Looking up, you caught sight of all four of the Bad Batch gazing at you with varying expressions of horror or concern.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling dizziness start to descend. Everything started to spin. “I’m sorry, I’ll- I’ll fix it-“

As everything tilted, the last thing you saw was someone’s hand reaching for you.

Part 4: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/654625612928008192/sword-and-shield-4

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years

Text

Based on this post I made earlier. Also available on ao3 here.

Warning for implied sexual content, but nothing is detailed and Jon isn’t involved in any way.

Jon felt himself relax as he found a free seat on the train, letting out a sigh. To be on your way home on a Friday was always a good thing, but getting an unexpected half day was especially nice.

He’d been trying to cut down on the amount of time he spent in work recently. Martin had been badgering him about it, and for once he let himself take the opportunity to not push himself beyond what was required. Besides, he always felt rather lonely on Friday’s, heading off to work by himself while his partners still slept. It was one of Martin’s days off from the library, and Gerry taught the evening class that day, so he didn’t have to be at the art school until eight.

He pulled out his phone to text them both, tell them he’d be home early, before realising rather too late that no, after five years of living in London there wasn’t suddenly signal on the tube.

He slid his phone back into his pocket. It’d just have to be a surprise then. He was only about ten minutes from his stop, and then he could walk home and get dinner on the way - or, he supposed with the early hour, lunch. He could waltz in the door and it would be a lovely surprise, and what a perfect way to start a weekend.

~~~

“Surprise! Boss ordered us all out early, basement is getting fumigated or some such thing. I brought- Oh!” Bags of food in one hand, he used the other to push open the bedroom door. Which revealed…

“Oh, Jesus-”

“Jon?”

Jon felt himself instinctively step back from the doorway. He tried to get words out, but his brain had decided that it didn’t exactly want to cooperate right now.

Martin pulled the sheet around himself self consciously. “Jon, we’re so sorry, we didn’t think you’d be home-”

“I’ll just go and- Uh- Put this… In the kitchen,” Jon managed to stammer out, before retreating to the safety of another room.

So… That had just happened. He had walked in on his partners… Well, having sex, to put it bluntly. Which was fine, he was fine with that, they were both adults who were allowed to do whatever they wanted. It had just caught him off guard, that’s all. He deposited the food on the countertop, and turned to lean against it, letting his eyes fall closed for a minute.

There were hurried footsteps down the hall after him, shortly followed by Martin and Gerry appearing in the doorway. They’d both pulled underwear on, and Gerry was wearing a shirt which, judging by the size, was probably actually Martin’s. Both of them looked about as mortified as Jon felt.

“Are you okay?” Was the first words out of Gerry’s mouth. Jon saw his hand move, as if to touch Jon’s arm in that way he did so often when he knew Jon was upset, but he hesitated before pulling back.

“What? Yes, yes of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” and Jon was aware that, for a man desperately trying to convince himself that he was not panicking, it kind of sounded like he was panicking.

“Well, you’re answering questions like that for starters,” Martin replied, and his voice was the right amount of calming and reasonable that he knew Jon needed right now. “Breath, love.”

Jon took the advice. In. Out. Look up to meet Martin’s eyes. “Yes, I’m- I’m fine. I’m sorry I reacted so… Adversely, I wasn’t expecting, well, that.”

“Do not start apologising over this. You did nothing wrong, we know this is a boundary for you, and we’re sorry we crossed that.”

Jon took a second before responding. “No, it’s… You two shouldn’t have to apologise either. You thought I wouldn’t be home for another four hours, I can’t fault you for wanting to, to have a good time in your own home. I can’t expect you to refrain from something you enjoy just because it makes me uncomfortable, especially when you didn’t expect me to be home.”

“You okay for a hug?” Gerry asked, leaning forward against the doorframe.

Jon wrinkled his nose slightly. “Maybe after a shower?” They all laughed at that, and Jon could feel the tension finally break between them. Then he coughed slightly to clear his throat. “Right, well, do you two want to go- Uhm… Finish up?”

“No offence, but I feel like the mood has been well and truly broken,” Martin said, “I think we should probably just take your advice on that shower,” he linked his hand with Gerry’s, and began to pull him away towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get the lunch ready,” Jon said, smiling through it as he began to take out plates.

~~~

Ten minutes later and all three of them were seated around the table, portioning out various containers of food.

“So is this a regular occurrence?” Jon asked, when they were all comfortably settled. Gerry nearly choked on his drink.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m never home on Friday’s. Is this when the…” Jon trailed off, pausing to laugh at his own phrasing before he’d even got it out, “When the magic happens, so to speak?”

Gerry let out a groan, and Martin’s face was buried in his hands, and knowing him, extremely flushed. “I mean not- Not every Friday,” he managed to mumble.

“But the majority of them?”

“... Yeah,” Gerry admitted.

Jon smirked. Now that nothing was directly going on, he was substantially more comfortable about teasing his partners than he was twenty minutes ago. “And what was the thought process behind that?”

“Well, we know you don’t like sex. Obviously. And we do. So we compared all of our schedules-”

“He made a spreadsheet,” Gerry interrupted, “A sex spreadsheet. Can you believe him. This is who we’re dating.”

“And we’re very lucky to have him,” Jon said, grabbing Martin’s hand from across the table and pressing a kiss to it.

“As I was saying,” Martin said, blush returning with the kiss, “We compared the schedules and Friday was the only time you weren’t home when Gerry and I were… So… Fridays.”

Jon laughed. “As adorably nerdy as that is… Why did you feel the need to do that?”

“Well not all of us are ace,” Gerry started, “And our boyfriend is particularly handsome so-”

“Yes, yes, no, I get that bit,” Jon interrupted, waving his hand to stop Gerry from elaborating any further. “I just meant.. Why all the cloak and dagger?”

“Well, we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Martin said with enough earnesty that it made Jon’s heart ache slightly.

“So you didn’t want me to be around for it?”

“It’s more that we thought you wouldn’t want to be around for it,” Gerry said.

“Oh, that’s…” Jon was a little stunned. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle that. To know that his two favourite people that he loved so much, cared about him to the extent where they would schedule that kind of thing around his own comfort. “How long have you been doing this?”

“... As long as we’ve lived together?” Martin admitted, voice trailing up at the end.

A year. They’d been conducting this elaborate plan for a year and he hadn’t noticed. All to make sure he was comfortable. Jon felt himself tearing up slightly. “That’s… That’s very… Thank you. Thank you. But really, there’s no need for that, it’s fine, I promise.”

“What do you mean?” Gerry asked, eyebrow furrowing.

“You were pretty firm that you really wanted no part in that kind of thing,” Martin said.

“I don’t!” Jon said, raising both palms, “That’s- No, that bit hasn’t changed, and I doubt it ever will. I just meant… I don’t really mind, if you two want to have some time together while I’m here?” The two looked slightly shocked, and he hastily continued, “I don’t want to be involved, or anything, I just meant you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide that from me?”

He let out a sigh. “I love you both very, very much. And I’m so grateful that you care enough about my boundaries that you would go to sheerly ridiculously lengths like that for me. But I don’t need to be shielded from it. My reaction earlier was mostly out of surprise. If in future you were to just… Tell me when, I would happily make myself at home in the living room with a book, or go for a walk or something. I don’t want you to feel like I’m something you have to accommodate.”

Gerry reached a hand across the table and took one of Jon’s. Martin followed suit, gently tracing circles across his knuckles. “Are you sure?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“I think you can trust me to make my own decision on this one. I will always tell you when something is wrong, or makes me uncomfortable, or unhappy. This isn’t one of them. I want both of you to be happy as I am in this relationship and that means not having to literally check your calendar to see if you’re allowed to have sex.”

Gerry leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Your right. We should’ve trusted you enough to tell you. At first it was a little… We didn’t want to freak you out or anything, and then after a while it just didn’t seem like a big deal? We probably should’ve tried to communicate better rather than just deciding we knew better.”

“It came from a place of love,” Jon said, returning the kiss by pressing one to his forehead, and then Martin’s in turn. “But I agree. More communication in future sounds good.”

“And we’ll buy you some noise cancelling headphones,” Gerry smiled.

“Christ, really?”

“That one was a joke.”

“Oh thank god.”

#My Post #Jongerrymartin #My Writing #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin #Jongerry #Gerard Keay #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years

Text

read here or on ao3!

Being a Regulator was one of the worst jobs Killian had ever decided to take. Don’t get her wrong, she knew that the purpose she served was great; she totally believed in doing everything in her power to keep the world safe, but it was so incredibly lonely. A good portion of Killian’s job description involved being prepared to kill any of her colleagues at a given moment. Didn’t exactly make for the most fun office relationships.

It was scary to think that at any moment, anyone in the Bureau could make a break against their procedures and require - well – regulation. When the Director had first approached about employment, Killian didn’t think much about it.

Okay, so my duties would be to stop people who use these things that you’re looking for?

In very simple terms, yes.

Great. When do I start?

Are you certain, Killian? This is going to be a highly dangerous job.

Listen, Madam Director, it beats the current gig I got so I’m in.

As the Bureau grew and turned into something much grander and more professional, Killian began to excel. She proved herself time and time again to be the most competent Regulator that the Bureau had. But it was that fact that she grappled with most.

Killian tried to keep a neutral face when she entered the Director’s office. She was being sent down planetside, though the details of the mission hadn’t yet been revealed to her.

“Killian, thank you for coming so quickly. As you know, your services are needed,” The Director’s face looked troubled and far away. “It’s Brian.” Killian let out a sharp, exasperated laugh.

“No way, Brian? Magic Brian? Director, surely there’s some kind of mistake! He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Killian thought of the highly complimentary, dramatic drow she’d met her first day on the base. They had both been in the first crop of employees and they had become fast friends. Everyone had taken to calling him Magic Brian because he was simply too bombastic to have such a plain name. And he was one of the most accomplished arcanists any of the Bureau employees had seen.

“Killian, I wish that were the case. Unfortunately, during his reconnaissance mission to locate the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet, he began to turn his back on the Bureau. Rather than seeking the Gauntlet for the good of the organization, we have it on good authority that he has started to seek it out for personal gain. In fact, we believe that he has,” the Director paused for a moment, considering her words carefully. “We believe he has hostages of sorts. It’s vital that you get down there, deal with him, and if you can, retrieve the Gauntlet.” Killian’s stomach fell. Regulating was one thing. That was her job, one she was very good at. But the idea of having to actually handle one of the relics herself? It scared her more than she cared to say.

“And I’m going alone?”

“Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be another option. Leeman is in the midst of preparing for a reclaiming mission himself and I don’t feel comfortable sending another Seeker down because I do fear that would put you in a hard position. Furthermore, I don’t believe the other Regulators are capable yet, frankly.” Killian’s thoughts rushed to Carey Fangbattle and to Boyland. Her regulator team. She was the unofficial captain, she supposed. She’d been at the Bureau for a few months longer than the two of them. And she also understood the Director’s unspoken addendum. She didn’t want to send more Regulators than necessary in case Killian herself had to be dealt with. Killian clenched her jaw, hoping no hesitation showed on her face.

“I’ll go get suited up and meet you and Avi at the hangar.”

“Actually, it’s just going to be Avi. He’s now going to be the sole one in charge of the Bureau’s transportation needs. The Millers have been working on adjustments to our system that make it easier to be manned by a single operator.”

“Oh shit, good for him.”

“Yes, he’s proven himself to be quite competent.” Lucretia reached into her desk and retrieved parchment and an inkwell. Killian turned to leave the Director’s office. “Oh, and Killian?”

“Yes, Madam Director?” the Director pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Don’t disclose the details of this to anyone yet. I know this is likely going to hit everyone hard and I frankly don’t want you to have to deal with that. I’ll figure out how to break the news.” Killian nodded and exited the office.

Late in the night she returned from the ruins of Phandalin, Killian found herself in the voidfish’s chambers. There had been a miraculous amount of excitement at the fact that a relic had been recovered and that the Bureau’s Reclaimer team had grown by three. Killian had done her best to slip away, sight unseen after she debriefed with the Director. She didn’t exactly feel like celebrating.

Instead, she felt like sitting on the ground in front of the voidfish’s tank, basking in its gentle light. She knew that Brian's Rites of Remembrance had been hastily done since the Director informed the Bureau of his treason. Traitors don’t get honor. But they do get grief, Killian thought to herself. She knew that Brian was too far gone by the time she reached him. She knew that he’d been ready to kill her with no second thought. She knew that he’d betrayed the Bureau and that betrayals wouldn’t stand in the organization. But all those facts didn’t keep her heart from twinging at the thought of Brian’s life just being wiped from memory.

“How’re you holding up?” Killian turned and saw Johann stride out from the shadows of the large room. She sighed and shrugged. Johann gazed at the voidfish for a moment before sitting on the ground beside her. They sat in silence for a while until a squeak by the doorway caused them both to turn around. Avi gave a meek wave before entering the room.

“Hey Avi,” Killian murmured quietly. He said nothing as he sat on Killian’s other side. The trio’s gazed up at the voidfish.

“Killian,” Avi began suddenly, “How was he?”

“He wasn’t himself. Not at all. I don’t know if that made it easier or harder, to be honest. I'm just glad that it wasn’t me who did him in.”

“Right, it was one of the new guys?” Johann turned to look at Killian for a moment. She nodded.

“Yeah, that new wizard, Taako, I think. I just still can’t believe he’s gone.” Killian didn’t tell anyone about the fact that she didn’t land a single hit on Magic Brian or his stupid fucking spider. She went running as soon as she could.

Avi tilted his head back and frowned. “Shit. His fiancé.” The trio grimaced. They all had lovely and ornate invitations in their own dormitories to Brian’s wedding. But at least the voidfish was supposed to handle all the messy things for the non-inoculated.

“I'm gonna miss that son of a bitch.” Johann mused quietly.

“Me too.” A gravitas-filled voice made the trio turn. The Director stood in the doorway, flanked by Carey and Boyland. They approached, staying mostly silent. Carey squeezed Killian’s shoulder and the six of them stayed in the voidfish’s chambers for some time.

Killian really did her best to keep from getting close to her coworkers, especially after what she was forced to do in Wave Echo Cave. It was terrifying to think that someday someone could be her coworker and then her assignment the very next day. Annoyingly, though, Carey Fangbattle seemed determined to break through Killian’s walls. She had done her best to get Killian to open up about her past, her fears, and everything in-between. Killian did her best to keep the dragonborn woman at arm’s length but the rogue was persistent.

“So, what was your deal before the Bureau?” she had asked one day while the pair was sparring. Boyland was home visiting family.

“Uh, you know, typical stuff. Pretty small family, we’re from a town outside of Neverwinter. They’re mostly all fighters so I took up that mantle. It was a pretty basic choice. What about you?”

“Heh, less basic than that. Small family too, just my parents, my brother, and me. He became a bard and I became a rogue. Our parents hate both these paths for both of us,” Carey chuckled after dodging a particularly swift sideswipe from Killian. “But you can’t ever seem to please barbarians, you know?” Killian laughed stepped out of the way of a deft roll Carey did. They continued sparring and joking for hours.

Killian found herself back in the voidfish’s chambers after she heard about Leeman Kessler and again after she heard about Captain Captain Bane. She hadn’t been particularly close to either of them be she saw that both these losses hurt Avi and Lucretia, respectively. Both times, she found herself surrounded by the five others who’d come together after the death of Magic Brian. They never coordinated it or spoke about it but something about basking in the company of each other in the glow of the voidfish gave them all a comfort none of them would admit to needing. At one point, Carey began to slip in beside Killian, forcing Avi to scoot to the orc’s other side. The rest of them changed position pretty frequently, depending on when they arrived. The Director eventually began siting on the floor with the five of them. When they were all in their unofficial ceremony for Captain Captain Bane, everyone had the courtesy to ignore the few tears shed by the Director.

Killian began to grow closer to Carey which scared the orc. It wasn’t that she didn’t love all the joy that the rogue brought her. That wasn’t it at all. But she couldn’t help but think about the fact that part of both their job descriptions involved being prepared to destroy their colleagues at any given moment. It wasn’t that Killian didn’t want to grow closer to Carey. If she was being honest, she’d love nothing more. She was just terrified.

Five of them gathered after Killian and Carey returned from the Miller’s lab. Boyland’s Rites ceremony wouldn’t be performed for some time. None of them were prepared to write out every detail of the man who’d brightened their days countless times.

They’d all already gathered after learning of the passing of Maureen Miller, but this time was different.

Maureen Miller and Lucas Miller would not receive Rites, though that didn’t stop the group from mourning them. Killian and Carey had quietly agreed to keep up the charade Magnus had set up in the lab. They both intended on interrogating him about it, but this was not the place to unwind it.

Truthfully, all of them were openly crying. Their tears were mostly quiet but they traced bright, shiny paths down their faces in the glow of the tank.

“Fucking Boyland. Him and his fucking cigars,” Carey said, leaning against Killian. She said nothing, instead choosing to wrap a protective arm around the dragonborn woman.

“I just can’t stop thinking about all his kids,” Avi’s face was unusually solemn. He retrieved his flask from his pocket and took a swig from it before passing it to Johann.

“Well, I mean, I understand that he was using a relic but,” Johann took a swig and passed the flask to Killian “Lucas was just a kid. I can’t believe that the Miller line is just… gone.”

Killian drank from the flask and passed it to Carey. “I can’t believe all the sketchy shit he was doing in that lab.” Carey gulped down some Brandywine and tentatively passed the flask to the Director.

“Grief is one hell of a drug,” the Director said hollowly, draining the remainder of the flask. “He was destroyed by the loss of his mother. Losing a loved one makes you do terrible things, especially if you think you could get them back.” She slid the flask back to Avi. The four others in the chamber glanced at the Director but said nothing. She was a woman who seemed to be haunted by griefs none of them could ever imagine.

Killian let her guard down at last. She let Carey inside her walls and was truthfully never happier. There was still an ever-present stripe of fear in Killian’s heart but somehow, when Carey was in her arms, it didn’t matter so much. Killian decided to appreciate and love Carey while she was alive rather than wait until she was despairing in front of a cryptic fish with an assortment of her closest friends and confidants.

After the day of Story and Song, after the Hunger had been defeated, after the base had been cleaned up, after a world of revelations had come to light, Killian and Carey found themselves in the voidfish’s chambers. Well, what used to be the voidfish’s chambers. Fisher was no longer there, the tank was shattered, and there was a noticeable absence in the room. They still sat in the spots they’d become so used to sitting in, though the room was far darker than it used to be. They both had their head in their hands when they heard familiar footsteps pad into the room. Avi practically collapsed next to Killian. She wrapped an arm around her friend and pulled him in close. None of them could speak. What could you say?

“I can’t believe it. In his last fucking act he just –“ Avi broke his sentence off and shook his head. He reached into his pocket and fished out his flask, dented but still functional. He held it up in a toasting motion and took a deep drink. Killian grabbed it from him and followed suit before passing it to Carey. Like a ghost, the Director, Lucretia, the woman they all suddenly knew in ways they never expected, appeared at Carey’s side. She wordlessly and unceremoniously sat down, taking the flask.

“How are you all doing?” she asked after a sip of Brandywine.

“Uh, not fucking great.” Avi reached out for the flask with one hand, scrubbing tears away with the other.

“Yeah, Madam Director, it’s been a bit of a day,” Carey said hoarsely before burying her face into Killian’s side.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Well, how are you doing, Lucretia?” Killian asked after a moment of silence. Lucretia barked out a humorless laugh.

“Shitty.”

Carey and Killian’s wedding was a beautiful affair, but it wasn’t without its more somber moments. The two women had an entire row of empty chairs reserved at the ceremony. They said nothing about their purpose but it didn’t take much energy to determine their purpose.

At one point in the evening, the pair found themselves sitting with Avi and Lucretia.

“And here’s the beautiful couple!” Avi said brightly, wrapping the brides in a tight hug.

“The ceremony was beautiful,” Lucretia delivered a hug to the couple once they detangled from Avi.

“It really was, huh?” Carey squeezed Killian’s hand. Killian’s smile was tinged with sadness.

“Hey um. Thank you both for being here. There’s already too many people missing and I don’t know how it would have been without you both.”

“Killian, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Lucretia reached a hand out and squeezed the orc’s arm. Avi looked around and snagged four glasses of champagne off a waiter’s tray. After passing glasses to the three women around him, Avi raised his glass in a toast.

“To Johann and Boyland.”

Carey raised her glass. “To Noelle and Captain Captain Bane.”

Lucretia followed suit. “To Maureen Miller and Magic Brian.”

Killian raised her glass. “Fuck it, to Fisher and Junior.” The four laughed gently before toasting.

Killian was never more grateful for her friends than she was in that moment. So much had been lost in the pursuit of balance, but she was grateful that their memories would remain with her. And she was never so glad to have been finished with a job.

#taz balance #taz #the adventure zone #tazb #killian #carey fangbattle #lucretia #avi #johann #taz fic #my writing #team sweet flips

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astriefer · 3 years

Note

“Please hold me.” for thomastair (ofc bc that's what you said) 🥺

Thank you for this! @littlx-songbxrd you asked for this as well. I'm sorry it's so bad.

~~~~~

Trust me with thy heart

Pairing: Thomastair

Words: 4,537

Contains mild angst, some self harm and hurt/comfort.

Note I am awful at writing angst or hurt/comfort. This whole poor writing is based on miscommunication, much or less, or the fear to let others close.

~~~~~

Thomas wasn't fond of fights.

Demons were one thing. Their destiny as Shadowhunters was to protect mankind from those filthy monsters who invade their world. They brought disorder and death. The people he cared about were a different tale.

A light jest with his friends, why not? A banter with his father about taking the coat or not while going outside? Sure. But not a very tumultuous, tempestuous strife with them. He preferred them all to get along with each other.

Thomas liked even less when it was him involved in the disagreement.

He spent the last day jogging between massive training seasons, hanging out with his friends, and losing himself in his thoughts. Now, he avoided everyone in favor of reading Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He made a special effort to tell no one where he was going, so non could bother him and ask him questions.

So Thomas was stunned when Ariadne Bridgestock, of all people, rushed through the entry in an unmatched combination of grace and ivory skirts, then flopped herself onto the armchair in front of Thomas.

While she had had a pleasant expression on her face, there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. If Thomas hadn't known better, he would've sworn she came here to murder him.

"You and Alastair fought," she stated.

Thomas glanced between his book to her determined face twice, considering his options. Then, on behalf of good manners, he put a bookmark on the current page he pretended to be reading for half an hour. "Is it Alastair's way to tell me to speak to him? If so, please tell him not to embroil any other folks in our relationship."

"He hadn't sent me," Ariadne ignored the last part of his sentence. "But he did not arrive for our conclave."

A spark of concern lightened up in Thomas, yet he repressed it. He was angry with Alastair, Thomas reminded himself. "And what have you speculated I can do about it?"

She looked at him funny. "Talk to him, I presume."

"Ariadne," he tried, weariness falling heavy on him. "While I appreciate your concern, I doubt Alastair wants to see me. In fact, I doubt whether I want to see him right now. I know you confide in each other-" more than Alastair does with him, the bitter thought tore its way into his head. "And your intentions are well, but I will highly prefer to keep this between myself and Alastair."

He thought this would give her down and make her apologize. "Alastair wouldn't have sent someone else, and he didn't solicit help from myself," she said instead. "He would've given time to you both to collect your minds, and then come to you in clearer mind."

It was right. He knew it was. "So this parley is all you?"

"As I said, Yes. I worried for my friend, who happened to be your partner."

Thomas brushed his thumb on the spine of the book, musing over her words. "Why would you be worried?"

"He stood me up. I came by your flat later, just for him to say nothing has happened. When I asked where you were, he conceded you two had a big bump in the road."

"That's a nice way to put it," Thomas murmured. "I frankly wished to be left alone. It's nothing-"

"Thomas," Her amber eyes met hazel ones. "You are good at many things. Fighting demons, and keeping the rest of the Thieves out of trouble, for example."

He quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Lying is not one of them."

Thomas swallowed, endeavoring to hide the feeling of hurt off his face. Recalling what happened a few days before made his whole body ache in pain. "So Alastair and I had a row. It always happens with lads."

"It's not just a lad for you," she pressed. He was wide aware of the chastisement in her words. "It's Alastair. And never have I seen him the way he looked when I checked on him."

"What do you mean?" he asked after he perceived her words. "Alastair was absolutely fine when I left the flat."

"You have to see for yourself." Ariadne said, "Go to him."

Despite the knots formed in the abdomen, he dithered. "Things ended up stormy when we last spoke. Maybe he's still mad. Maybe I'm still mad."

It wasn't just Alastair who was mad. He wondered how Alastair had been this past day, and how was he feeling, among many other thoughts. Yet the cloud of exhaustion and hurt surrounding him perturbated the nervousness. He was allowed to be upset about what happened. It sure wasn't nothing. Not on his part, at most. Why couldn't Alastair just-

"Excuses are not appreciated," Ariadne announced, "So you better confront him already, or I swear I shall chase you to the end of the Earth with my electrum whip." Ariadne threatened, and that what had taken to wake Thomas out of his hesitation.

"Of course," he sighed, "Because I don't have enough troubles already."

She brushed it off again with a smile, and Thomas felt mildly annoyed. He hadn't shown it. "Sort it out. It will benefit the two of you to tackle the problem."

She left no place for arguments. Utterly abandoning the book, Thomas rose to his feet and went to leave the room.

He was glad to get out of the grip of this confusing confab, but he was even more unsure if to listen to her advice.

He was still angry with Alastair.

~~~~~

A veil of fog surrounded the city. It was a prevalent London day, cool and cloudy. The wind is blowing hard, welcoming passersby in a burst of freezing breeze. A thunderstorm on its way, they said.

But those were the last of things that perturbed Alastair's peace of mind. It matched his mood just fine. If someone was to describe him, curled up on his bed alone, he could imagine being portrayed as forlorn and tormented.

No, what bothered him was a particular someone that left and hasn't returned. Alastair hated he still hoped Thomas would return and make him less cold.

His breath was heavy, and his lungs burned like fire. He remembered words that haunted him for weeks in the past. I believed you were more than what others said about you. I conceived myself beneath all the harsh words, was someone with a kind soul waiting to be seen. Was it all a lie I told myself?

Darkness flooded his senses. Trying to get any portion of self-control on his body he could, Alastair rose to his feet, glancing out of the window on unsteady legs without seeing anything at all. Gather yourself together.

But the words burned deep then, and they burned deep now. That was a battle against himself he meant to lose. The cold spread not only from the world beyond the window but from within him. It pulled out his ugly head, writhing and furious, desperately trying to break free and rise to the surface. People walked in the streets, oblivious to his troubles just as he was to theirs.

Thomas wasn't there.

Thomas wasn't there, and Cordelia wasn't there, and anyone he loved wasn't there. He locked himself in their flat for the past day, overthinking and speculating and wondering why did he have to be the way he is. If Thomas had finally realized he deserved someone so much better than Alastair, would he be surprised? Alastair was aware of this fact too well. The way he looked at him when they fought, the shaky hands when he opened the door, and the hours of waiting in case Thomas will return, just for nothing to happen. What does it mean if not that Alastair finally made Thomas give up and leave?

This inner part of him was crying, demanded to be heard, to be set free. A shrill cry came to his ears, and it took him a moment to perceive it belonged to him.

His vision became vague, his head ached, and everything spun around. He tried to lay a hand on the wall - only to find he miscalculated the distance and fell ungracefully on his knees. His heart pounded in his chest while the darkness tried to pull him in; He tried to take a breath and dozens of small knives tore his lungs up. He shrank, gasping for air that didn't come.

Everything seemed blurry, all his mind could engross in was the words Thomas Lightwood told him, the cold truth dripping from them, freezing Alastair all over again.

Alastair was accountable for all the hideous things he'd done and said, unquestionably. How weak is he that he hides behind shallow faces and vicious words? What a dolt he is, hurting a person, mainly the only person outside of his family that seemed to genuinely care for him. His words rang in his head, Thomas's voice haunting every corner.

He sank lower, his breathing gurgling, reaching out in search of something stable, something that would serve as a pillar in the chaos that ensued around him. His hand extended out to the still air and then groped for something to hold on the floor. That came the way of a cold, sharp object that lay on the ground. He gripped it tightly, and he groaned in pain and relief at the physical ache that eased his mind.

"Alastair?" A voice called.

~~~~~

Thomas was about to lose his right mind. Alastair was trembling vigorously, barely able to stand on his feet that were shaking like a leaf swaying in the wind.

"Alastair," Thomas stuttered, with no response back. His indignation vanished to immediate panic. "Alastair?" he repeated more stubbornly.

His chest went up and down quickly; His eyes were wide like that of a deer caught in the automobile light. When Thomas tried to take a step toward him, the smaller man stiffened and stood bolt upright. Thomas stopped dead.

"I came at the behest of Ariadne," he said, just for the sake of talking. Alastair hadn't told him to quiet, so he kept going. "And because I was worried about you."

"Leave," Alastair hissed out frantically. Thomas couldn't stop the throbbing burn striking through his body.

Thomas took a few steps back, allowing Alastair his space. He had no temptation to leave as he requested - Thomas simply waited aside, for a chance Alastair would change his mind. He recalled the nights he woke up from a nightmare, dazed and overwhelmed with emotions, and how Alastair always reassured him in the dead of night.

This Alastair seemed lost in his own mind, unable to escape, and it terrified Thomas. Yet, he shoved the dread aside and put on the most relaxing facade he could. He was told to be quite good at it.

"I'm right here, Azizam."

"Everyone leaves. You can do as well."

Somewhere in his mind, the pieces joined together, like a colossal puzzle. Was he afraid Thomas would leave him? That he would give up on him? he told him he could leave in their run-in, because he thought everyone will leave him in the end?

"I don't know. I don't know how to do it." To cease making the wrong decision. To cease pushing people away. To cease hurting people. "man nemidânam."

"Alastair, can you hear me?"

As he found out, Alastair did not hear him. "I don't want to hurt you. I already hurt you so much." Alastair went on, choking on his own words. Thomas was in full panic mode, and he hurried further toward Alastair with barely contained alarm.

I find you worth any pain to come, Thomas thought.

"It's fine," Thomas said. "I am fine. I want you to be fine as well. It's much more important to me than whether you may or may not harm me."

Something split in his face, and he took a deep breath down his throat. His eyes snapped to Thomas. The terror on his face made Thomas's heart sink.

"Alastair?" he asked, but it didn't manage to elicit a response from the other man.

Thomas drew closer to Alastair, not missing the flinch passing the half-Persian's body. Thomas could hear his breath, shallow and trembling. He could painfully see the tremor of his hands. The wide eyes that so clearly tried to hold back tears. He took one step closer, and Alastair took one back.

Thomas imminently came to a halt. Alastair squeezed hard against the wall. He looked like a captive animal on the verge of losing hope, a man pushed to the edge, an injured soul.

Thomas took one step closer. With his enormous figure, it all needed to reach Alastair. He wrapped his arms around the shorter man, didn't let go even when Alastair squirmed, trying to shove him aside, fought to set free from Thomas's grip. His hold only tightened, and he used his strength to shove Alastair's head into his chest. He kept him close, kept even when Alastair protested, kept his hold when Alastair Surrendered abruptly, sinking into the soft material of Thomas's clothing, even when sobs began and his chest got wet from the tears of his love.

Thomas pressed his lips to the dark hair, held Alastair steadily while he cried. No words of reassurance passed between them. Truly, Thomas wasn't sure Alastair would have heard him if he tried. He knew the touch was what Alastair needed. Their embrace was clumsy and distorted, but it was enough. Enough to tell Alastair he wasn't alone; Thomas wouldn't have let him go through this alone.

With a soft sigh, Thomas finally let loose of his grip. He started to pull away and was surprised when he felt fists clasping on the fabric of the front of his sleeveshirt.

"Please," Alastair whispered desperately."Please hold me."

Thomas couldn't find it in himself to deny it to Alastair. They slipped to the floor. Alastair buried his face in Thomas's chest once again, shaking silently. Thomas felt his mouth forming words on his chest, although he could not tell which. All the while, his hands embraced the slim, shaking form of Alastair.

A few minutes had passed. Or an hour. Or a couple of days. Thomas didn't feel the time had passed while he tried to console his beloved one. He closed his eyes and concentrated on moving his hand on Alastair's small back, kept him close. The other hand came to caress the space between his ear and jawline, where he was creating circles on the tender skin.

Slowly, The dark-haired's breath became more even.

"Here you are," Thomas let a breath of both exhaustion and relief leave his body. "Can you hear me, Eshgham?"

"Y-Yes."

"Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

"No."

Thomas sighed inertly as he held the other gentleman in his warm hands, promising reassurance and no judgment. Alastair, for the matter, clang to him as if he was drowning and Thomas was his only lifeline.

He never liked to fight with Alastair. It rarely happened, but when it did it left a bitter taste in his mouth and a pang at his heart. But he was not going to give up - not on this. He remembered his mother once told him couples fight, sometimes, because they still care about what the other does. It was their first argument with their new agreement. It didn't make him feel any better at the time. All his life he had been surrounded with unconditioned love, never exposed to the arguments and the imperfect details. It made him view love as just sweet and honey, while he learned that there's more with Alastair.

There's the giving. And the receiving. The trust in the other's intentions and the willingness to make them your priority foremost of all. The disagreements make you understand when your boundaries are and open a place for learning and acceptance. The balance you build with time, something he hoped he could shape with the man in front of him.

The trust part, to his belief, was something they still were working on. Alastair had leaned on him, and Thomas wondered it he thought now he calmed down, Thomas would leave him again. He did the last time.

"I'm not leaving," They locked eyes, and for some reason, he felt hope. "Alastair, I'm not leaving."

There are very few things he wanted more than Alastair. Verily, He was what he longed for above everything else. He wanted Alastair and everything he was.

Alastair didn't answer, but he averted his eyes.

"Are you ready to go now?"

Alastair seemed slightly lost, but he nodded and weakly stood on his legs. He followed Thomas while Thomas flung himself up and let Alastair sat on their bed beside him. The comfortable place always made both feel better - The mix of English and Persian and Spanish books on the bookshelves. The notebooks full of poems Thomas kept beside his side of the bed. Alastair's spears collection. The artworks they bought when they visited art galleries.Even the soft yellow light was a source of relief.

"You are mad," proclaimed Alastair in a hoarse voice.

"So are you," Thomas returned. Alastair shook his head, and Thomas's eyebrows rose. "So what then, if not mad?"

"Mostly nauseous," Alastair murmured, managing to startle a breathy chuckle out of Thomas. "But also bloody exhausted."

Thomas fumble after the right words, before deciding he should be candid. "I didn't like being apart from you in those few days. But I stick to what I told you before, Alastair." He saw it happening - the wall of defense Alastair was building up again after the last one had crushed. "Let me bring some fresh air into here."

Thomas tried to ventilate the room well while Alastair sank into the mattress and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "If you call the London foggy, polluted air fresh, then sure."

A bit of relief passed because of Alastair's quip. He didn't lose it. "It seems you and my father share this opinion."

Thomas scanned Alastair, then noticed the cut on his right palm. Absentmindedly, he approached his side.

"Why did you do it?"

It took Alastair a moment to conceive what he was referring to. He hastily covered it with his other hand, but Thomas saw it. "I - didn't mean to."

Thomas watched the cut in awe as if it was imaginary. However, when he grazed the skin, Alastair winced.

Thomas wasn't sure how to counter this. Their fight. What just happened. Alastair didn't either. Or did he wish to pretend none of this happened? That he -both of them- weren't hurt?

This thought wasn't toleratable to Thomas.

And that's why, after he took his stele out of his dresser and was applying an iratze on Alastair's forearm, that he asked, "I want to talk about what happened the day before yesterday."

He could feel Alastair stiffening, his muscles tensing. "I was upset," Alastair said cautiously. "I shouldn't have snapped at you, Tom."

"You shouldn't have," Thomas agreed. He was done with the iratze and put the stele aside. "But that's not why I'm distraught."

Alastair shot him a tumultuous look. Thomas took a deep breath before looking Alastair dead in the eye. "You were upset, but you wouldn't tell me why. You grumble about things relentlessly, but when you're truly shaken you don't share at all. It's not - just this argument. It's not just one thing. Those small moments you hesitate whether to tell me the truth. The times you don't." He inhaled, letting the cold air fill his lungs. He resisted looking away from Alastair's face, didn't let his eyes flutter around the room like they were trying to do. "Love is also built on trust and communication. If we don't have those, what is left?" He didn't need to hear Alastair's reply. "We talk, and we share, yet I cannot understand why you're so grumpy at times. I need you to tell me."

"Can't one just be pissed off at the world?"

"Alastair."

"Many things can upset me," Alastair said. Thomas might have hallucinated it, but his voice was a bit shaky. "Do you want to hear them all?"

"Yes," Thomas answered immediately. His tone was sincere.

Alastair's hand reached to the other side of the bed, a nonverbal request. They still couldn't stop staring at each other. But not playfully, or lovingly, but earnestly.

Alastair, naked of his facade and any snide remarks. Alastair, whom he grew to know and rarely showed up to many else.

I do trust you. I care for you. were the meaning behind Alastair's gaze. All Thomas wanted is to lean on and forget everything. But still - it was not his pride making him relucent. That was much deeper than that.

He lingered there just for a moment too long, enough to make Alastair believe he declined the request, and his hand quirked in pain for a moment. His face became emotionless - and Thomas had feared he misleadingly deceived Alastair that he didn't want them after all. That he didn't want him.

In moments, he climbed on the bed. He coddled Alastair, silently and diligently. "Tell me. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Alastair retorted eventually. He rubbed his eyes and laid back on the bed board. Then after a moment. "Everything."

"I hate it when I see you suffer and I don't know why," Thomas whispered. "I want to help. More than anything. But you push me away and I am left to think it might be because of me, because-"

"No," Alastair said firmly, extending his hands to cup Thoams's. "You have never been anything but good to me. It's just-," he broke off.

Thomas searched his foggy eyes. "I don't blame you," he told him, "If it's hard for you. But trust me enough to tell me what bothers you, thus we could face it together." He collected his hands in his own, lifting them so he could kiss his knuckles. "I know I want to stand by your side whatever the cost." he was certain about that; No whirlwind to come could change it. "Will you let me?"

Instead of an answer, Alastair kissed him.

Thomas knew he was kind, forgiving, trusting. He knew Alastair was slow to trust, slow to reveal his true feelings, hiding behind sharp words to secure himself from being harmed by people close to him. He knew the world broke his heart - so viciously, and that he took the pieces that were left. It was undoubtedly hard. Alastair had changed so much, yet Thomas wanted to understand, to reassure Alastair they were in this together.

"Hamsar-am," Alastair said when they pulled away. "I will try."

Thomas smiled at the endearment term. His heart was throbbing fast. "I was mad," he confessed, "because you refused to tell me what's wrong. You pretended. And I - I don't want facades, my love. I want the truth. I want you."

"I don't want to be weak around the people I love," Alastair whispered, and Thomas understood. To what extent did he fear that if he shows weakness, his friends and family would suffocate him again, shield him from the world as they did when he was younger? How much he feared at slightest of weakness shown, he would be smothered as Thomas had been when he was too small, too fragile?

But Alastair never did that. He supported him in his way, allowed him to be weak without acting as if Thomas was made of glass. "So not weak to everyone," He was astonished he found it in himself to laugh softly. "Each other will be enough. We can be vulnerable with one another."

Alastair stared at him for a long moment. Eventually, a faint smile appeared on his lips. "Okay."

"This is just another way of trust."

So Alastair told him. He told him about the rumors he heard from the London enclave about his family, the looks he had gotten. Of the words of people who were white while Alastair was brown. He didn't mind, much, but it drew attention to his family. And to Thomas. Respectable family and a kind heart seemingly weren't enough to make the rumors - and who spread them - silence. The opposite is correct - the fire burned even brighter, and its flame was like cutting knives. The people who matter didn't care about their agreement, and Alastair long stopped paying attention to rumors. But when it was about Thomas, he said, he had been furious. The stories unfolded, the truth shone through, and the more Alastair talked - not just about rumors, but on the way some of the people treated him, of the Cornwall's townhouse and its residents, the things his soul troubled about were finally out.

Thomas listened, understood, stroked Alastair's cheek when he seemed to start shaking again, but now out of relief instead of concealed agony.

They sunk into a comfortable silence in the end. Up until Alastair inquired, "You were out for so long. Where were you?"

"At the institute," Thomas replied. The concept of coming back to his parents' townhouse, admitting the quarrel, rewinding it all in his head countless times while enduring Sophie and Gideon's worrying looks, was nothing he wished to do. "Or somewhere I could avoid anyone."

"And now?" he asked tentatively. "You come back?"

"I have no intentions to leave this bed even if Ariadne herself will come to pluck me off the sheets." He affirmed.

Alastair's smirk became genuine this time. "Ariadne was here today."

When Thomas said "I know" he got a quizzical look from Alastair so he supplied, "She found my whereabouts and made me go confront you. Not much subtly, may I add."

"Yes. This jinx made me open up the door and refused to leave until I told her what happened."

Thomas silently laughed.

"I..suppose it was rather cathartic," Alastair said. It was evening now, Thomas noted, and none of them found it in themselves to get up and eat supper. They just kept their bodies close, relishing their air of comfort.

"Indeed. This, this was good. Splendidly better than reading the same page over and over again in the Devil's tavern or pretending to care what waistcoat Matthew is taking to the impending party at Anna's flat."

"You thought the place you and your squad go to hide is the best place to hide from them?" Alastair asked.

"It seemed reasonable at the time," Thomas murmured. "Each of us has a kind of hideout, have we not?"

Where was Alastair's safe hideaway? At home, with a book in hand? At museums, drinking in art and beauty? Was it hiking in the streets of London by himself and enjoying the view and the whispers of nature?

"You," Alastair said. Thomas hadn't realized he voiced his question aloud. A tired, small smile played on Alastair's lips, yet his words were soft, plain and simple. Their eyes locked, and he could feel how genuine Alastair was. "You are my hideout."

~~~~~

Dictionary:

man nemidânam - I don't know

Eshgham - my love

Hamsar-am - my equal head, my better half

#alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas lightwood #the last hours #my fics #thomastair fics #for the matter Thomas does NOT know how to help Alastair in the state he was in. He doesn't know the right way to approach this.#They just found solace in physical affection so he found it fitting there too #I'm sorry #littlx-songbxrd #carstairstessa #Besides I take centuries to write because not only I am extremely busy (and sunk way too deep into the fluff fic and Choi)#but have to wait for inspiration to strike. It works not another way.#so sorry

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misumeaw-blog · 3 years

Text

13 Days 13 Fanfics | Counting down Albedo’s Birthday

Pairing : Albedo x GN! Reader

Genre : Fluff | Established relationship

Warning : None

Word count : 1,699 words

note : I can die peacefully now, I believe the entire family can hear me screaming. Day 13 will be based on Albedo's mail. I suck at kissing btw, sooo I tried

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Day 12 Moment of Birth Part 1: Midnight

Light from houses in the city of freedom starting to turn into darkness; but not all, liveliest place in the slumbering city in the lake still filled with drunkards and music from the bard. Angel share, is night-active with drinks and socializing drinkers.

You have a meeting with your friends to discuss what to give Albedo for his birthday, Although..

“You guys seriously haven’t kissed yet? It’s been nearly a year”

things seemed going in the completely wrong direction “Shhh quiet please, Captain Kaeya. It’s not a big deal, I understand he wanted to take things slow” Still, there are times where you yearn for more than hugs and pecks on your face.

“Our Chief Alchemist has really taken your advice Too well, Kaeya” Lady in purple attire and a large witch hat, decorated with roses spoke up “That little genius never opened up for this sort of relationship” eyepatch man took another gulp to his mouth “I’m still surprised you managed to make him fall for you”

“Kaeya, rude” lightly zapped the one-eyed captain before turning to you “If he doesn’t make the first step, you’d need to do it” she placed her finger on your lips “Alright, alright, stop everyone” you harsh your friends before things getting out of hand “I just wanted a piece of advice on what to give Albedo for his birthday, so how did this turned to-“ Yup, that sparked your idea.

Both Knights of Favonius glanced at each other then back to you “Do you still need our help?”

The following morning you knocked on the Acting Grand Master’s room “Come in” an assertive voice flew out from the wooden door “Good morning, Master Jean. Do you know where Klee is?” “Good morning, I think she’s by the lake near Wolvendom. Oh and if you’re going to meet her, please make sure she doesn’t explode all the fish” she spoke without looking at you, eyes on massive amounts of paperwork

“One other thing, Acting Grand Master. I would be greatly appreciated if you kindly grant Albedo’s leave on his birthday” you figured your boyfriend might need a day off, in case he wanted to spend time with you and Klee “Oh right, his birthday is approaching” she glanced at the calendar “Yes of course, please do send him my regards if I couldn’t inform him myself” Closing the door after thanking her, ‘alright, off to Wolvendom’ you recalled your plan

Explosions can be heard from afar, the little girl should be nearby. Fish flying out in the sky, big splash easily visible. A small girl in red clothing having fun tossing bombs into stilled water. You called for her and she turned around “Y/N! Klee missed you” red coat sprinting to you, hugging you as soon as you’re in her reach By now she sees you as another sibling, despite you’re actually dating her brother. “Having fun today mh Klee?” glancing at the amount of dead fish on the ground “Yup! The kind uncle at the fishing asso..asso..” “Fishing association?” “Yes! the fishing association told Klee there’s a bunch of new fish all over Mondstadt, Klee will blast them all” You know fishing normally is better for the fish, but you let it slide for her happiness “Hey Klee, I have to borrow your brother the day before his birthday; well, tomorrow, is that alright?” You crouch down to the little girl’s height “Aw, but Klee wanted to be with big brother Albedo..” “I know Klee, but by that time you would be asleep. Would you like to help me prepare snacks for Albedo then?” “Yayy, Klee wanna help!” “Alright, keep it between us m’kay?” Holding out a pinky finger for the young one to hook with hers

‘And to keep Albedo busy..’ You head to the fountain plaza to one of your boyfriend’s assistants, Timaeus. “Morning Timaeus, do you know where Sucrose is?” A bit weird to start a conversation about her, since you and Sucrose don’t really get along “Sucrose? I’m not sure. Do you want me to help find her?” “No, no no no, uh, Timaeus, I need you to help distract Albedo tomorrow, mild difficulty experiment, anything” “Is that all? All Right” Scholar alchemist agreed to lend you a hand “Thanks, Timaeus”

You headed off to your next destination ‘Alright, time for a hard part’ the last part of your plan is rather hard, you wondered if he gonna help you

“Mark it as done!” wow that was.. easy, perhaps it’s because of three high-quality bottles of wine in his hands. You asked.. or rather, hired anemo bard to play songs for the night and extra requested to let the wind carry the song to you.

In the evening, you have scouted the area you wanted to give the alchemist your gift and found the perfect place. An area where you can see both the city of freedom and the icy summit, high enough for the gentle breeze to flow, beautifully decorated with flowers and greenery. Starsnatch cliff, also the home of the flower which held meaning, the truest feelings of prodigal son, Cecilia.

The next day everything went according to plan. Light meal fully prepared with the help of the pyro girl, Timaeus kept Albedo busy so he couldn’t come home and caught you and Klee in action.

Quite late night when you knocked on Alice’s door, the blonde, still in his usual attire opened to greet the unknown guests. “Y/N? What are you doing here this late hour?” Judging from the angle of the moon, it's around 9-10 PM “Hey, what about me?” eyepatch covering male’s hand and he placed his elbow on the opened door, the alchemist only nodded to his presence “Evening Bedo, I would like to show you something, could you come with me please?” you don’t normally use the formal language after being with him for so long. He can sense your shyness from the way you speak and your body language “I’d love to go but Klee..”

You pointed to the man behind you “Don’t worry about little Klee, just go enjoy your time” he basically dragged the alchemist out of his house

Chitchat along the way, fingers intertwined with his “Not sleepy yet aren’t you?” you bent down and look at him in the eyes “Not at all, I’m rather excited about what you prepared for me” giggled to his answer “Good, 'cause the night is still young!” you have reached your destination, Large fabric covering the grassy ground, a basket filled with snacks lies atop, along with a flower vase to decorate the scenery. Log of wood has bags and books resting against it. The wind bringing the scent of white flowers and the tune of the harp. Moon and star shining bright, needlessly of other light sources.

“Didn’t know you had anything romantic in mind” he teased your boldness “..well, what do you think?” hiding your embarrassment and teases the alchemist back

Sitting down to the location you prepared, he started to examine the scene “There’s no musician nearby, nor to any instruments.. Am I the only one hearing the melody?” Trying to find a scientific explanation for a strange event “The wind carries messages. Was music not a kind of message too?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, drowning in the love you gave him

“Enjoying it hmm? Here, I prepared some light food for us” slowly getting plates and snacks out from the weaved basket, the fabric is soon filled with various types of dishes "You’re not gonna sit on your seat?” his arms tightened, head bury to your shoulder “..I don't want to move” it’s rare seeing him clingy to you like this “you’re adorable you know” finally commented on his action

“We got your favorite,” one of your dishes has turned to Albedo’s favorite “These are canapés, I chose bread base, topped with different types of savory” bite-sized dishes, you know he prefers smaller portions

Pointing to each topping one by one, explaining what each one is made of. In his eyes, you’re like a professional chef

“Bedo, check this one out” you pulled out Fisherman’s toast with clover ketchup, onions, cheese, and heart-shaped parleys “..Fish-Flavored Toast, Klee’s specialty. You’re so thoughtful, I have to thank her later” he pecked your cheek, definitely in love

“And we got desserts- after savory alright Bedo?” His hand was already reaching for the dish, you have to stop his fast hand Brownies, Berry Mille-Feuille, and a jar of chocolate chip cookies are all making him drool “Shall we dig in?” He suggested, perhaps the desserts engaging him.

Your hypothesis was turned down after seeing him having a high appetite for savory, you figured he actually wanted to savor your cooking

Hours passed and you both are finally full, cuddling against the wooden log, enjoying the melody floating in the air. His platinum hair reflects the elegant moonlight, half-lidded eyes resting against your neck, handheld on yours. You looked up in the sky- its almost time

“Albedo?” He replied with a sweet hum, glancing up at you “Do you know what day is tomorrow?” “..my birthday. but I still don’t understand why you chose to celebrate it tonight” “Wouldn’t be nicer to receive a gift directly after the clock strikes midnight?” Lifted his chin to face you, he’s so close to you, closer than usual

Both yours and his cheek painted rosy, he cupped your face and look deeply into your eyes. “was all this not my birthday gifts?” “nope.. would you like to find out what it is?”

Moon motions overhead, the clock strikes midnight, soft breeze touched exposed skin, the sound of the harp soaring in the sky. stars as the witness, Cecilia as the oath, feelings as vow sealed between the two bodies.

Hand slide by the side of his neck, placing on the backside and pulled him closer, half-lidded eyes slowly closed, chest-pounding hard, tilted your head to the side a little-

sweet lips finally placed on his loving ones, passionated and full of affection, butterflies flying in your stomach. After a while, you break the timeless kiss

“Happy birthday my beloved Albedo”

#albedo x reader #albedo genshin x reader #albedo x you #albedo x gn reader #13Days13AlbedoFanfics #genshin x you #genshin x gn reader

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blueroseblaze · 3 years

Text

Devil May Cry INK

New Devil May Cry Nero x GN!Reader tattoo!AU series based on the lovely work by @hennatheantenna

also available on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203587

Please enjoy this first installment

The shop was quiet, save for the soft sweeping and the low hum of the radio. The Sunday early evening light shining through the windows was blinding if you weren’t sitting in the right spot. The orange lights cascading through the front windows warming the waiting area. It was a nice respite from an otherwise busy day.

Nero sat behind the counter, thumbing through, and counting the stack of cash with practiced speed and rhythm before placing it back in the register drawer. He glanced up at V who was too preoccupied sweeping the storefront floor and being distracted by the sleeping black shop cat on the windowsill.

“When is this new artist coming in?” V asked in his normal low poetic voice, not even looking In Nero’s direction while speaking.

“They should be here in a few minutes, we agreed on 6:30 for the interview,” Nero replied.

“Are you going to hire them? Dante did give you the final say on it.”

“Their portfolio is really impressive, and Nico spoke highly of them. So, we’ll see. We’re short-staffed anyway so I don’t think we’re in the business of being super picky.

“Right,” V hummed before continued his cleaning.

Devil May Cry Ink had been short-staffed for a long time despite being located in a relatively popular area, close to many clubs, shops, and an active nightlife. With only 3 artists and one financial manager, they could hardly keep up with patrons when there were rarely all three artists present. Dante, Nero’s uncle and official co-owner of the establishment was remarkably popular and often traveled to meet in person with more high-end clients rather than have them come to their humble little shop. Luckily, Nero’s Father, Vergil, was more than capable of keeping them afloat handling the financial side of the equation.

Nero leaned back in his chair behind the counter, balancing on the back legs with his feet propped up on the countertop. He shut his eyes and sighed, listening to the low drawl of the radio and the humming of the vents that kicked on overhead.

But soon the young man was shaken from his half nap when he heard a knock on the front door, which had been locked at the end of the day.

“Is that them?” V asked.

“Probably,” Nero replied before standing to answer the door.

Nero approached the door and unlocked it, opening it enough only for him to stick his head out to greet the person and make sure that she was in fact their new possible hire.

“Hi,” they greeted in an excited but polite voice, “I’m here for an interview, I’m looking for Nero.”

“You found him,” Nero replied confidently, “Are you Y/N?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” they said.

Nero welcomed them inside, stepping out of the way of the door so that they could slip through and he could lock the door again behind him. they faced him, waiting for any extra greeting or instruction as V approached the two.

“This is my half-brother, Vitalie,” Nero introduced.

V held out a lanky tatted arm and Y/N took his hand, giving a professional shake.

“You can call me V,” he said.

“Noted,” they said with a smile glancing down as something rubbed against their leg making them jump.

“That our shop cat, Shadow,” Nero explained, “Don’t worry she’s had all her shots.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Nero led the young artist towards the back of the shop where there would be little disturbance. They tried taking in the atmosphere of the shop but found the man walking before them too distracting. Their eyes traced over the intricate blue and red roses that sleeved his arms, all the way up to the ink covering a sizable portion of his neck leading right up to the snowy white undercut he was sporting.

“Hey um, is your…”

“My hair is natural, yes,” Nero replied before they could even get a word out.

Y/N started to internally panic, their face going red as they averted their gaze trying to explain themselves and apologize, stumbling over their words like a flustered cartoon.

Nero chuckled, “It’s ok I get it a lot.”

Y/N huffed in embarrassment as they continued to follow him to the back room. The office wasn’t particularly big, just enough to fit some shelves, a desk, and a couch. It was mostly just a place for Vergil to get away to do work or discuss business, and for Dante to take naps.

Nero took a seat at the desk, pulling out a large portfolio as he instructed Y/N to sit down. He opened the portfolio and began flipping through it for what was probably the twentieth time.

“You can take your jacket off,” he said, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Y/N shrugged out of their jacket, adjusting their shirt as they laid it nicely on the arm of the sofa. Nero glanced up from the portfolio and stared at their bare arms and chest in confusion.

“Do you have any ink?” he asked incredulously.

Y/N huffed out a nervous laugh, hand moving to the back of their neck as they looked away.

“Yeah, I know how it looks. I’m just not a fan of needles is all. But I promise all that work is mine. You wouldn’t be the first to think it wasn’t.”

Nero looked back down at the portfolio. He was surprised at the lack of ink but had no reason to think it was plagiarism. He trusted Nico’s judgment so if she recommended an artist he would trust she knew what she was talking about.

“It’s not a problem I’m just surprised. I mean I was really impressed by your work it was just a surprise that you didn’t have any on you. So anyway, how long have you been tattooing,” he asked attempting to dodge the now awkward tension.

“About 3 years,” Y/N began, “I started getting interested in body art when I was young because my best friend’s dad owned a tattoo parlor in my hometown. I actually did my apprenticeship there before moving out here. I met Nico about a year and a half ago and we became fast friends and she asked me to do one or two pieces for her.”

“You ever been to art school?” Nero asked.

“Yeah! Majored in drawing and illustration,” they replied.

The interview went on with more questions and straightforward answers. Mostly about Y/N’s experience and a walk-through of their best work. A few quips and jokes thrown in here and there. Nero couldn’t keep his eyes off them as they went on and on about their artistic process and what inspires them. He couldn’t deny that they were cute. The way their eyes lit up as they spoke about what they were passionate about.

“So when did you first start?” Y/N asked, turning the questions back around on Nero.

“Pretty long time ago,” he answered, “My uncle started this place when I was like a toddler and roped my dad into it. Once I turned sixteen the old man finally let me get my first one. And when I turned eighteen my uncle let me start working.”

“I see you like roses,” they said, eyeing the expansive work on Nero’s arms.

“Yeah, they’re my favorite,” Nero explained, “Had them done by my uncle.”

The two of them had ended up talking for almost two hours, changing subjects to things like movies and music that they liked, and they found they had a lot in common. It was only when V poked his head through the door and reminded Nero of the time that they decided to call it quits.

“Can you start Monday?” Nero asked.

Y/N’s eyes grew wide and they vigorously nodded, almost jumping in their spot with excitement. They thanked both of them for their time before Nero offered to walk them to the door. They wished him a goodnight and he locked the door behind them. But not before exchanging phone numbers.

“They seem nice,” V said, smirking at Nero’s confused face, “And attractive it seems.”

Nero sputtered a broken response before playfully slugging his brother in the arm, causing the thin man to laugh.

“Just making an observation,” V excused.

“Yeah well keep your observations to yourself,” Nero chided, as he walked back behind the front counter. He reached over and picked up his leather jacket and blue helmet that matched the floral print on his sleeves that were hanging off the barstool. He slung the jacket over his shoulder and tucked the helmet under his arm.

“It has been a while since your last relationship, perhaps something could blossom from this.”

“Work is work, V. Don’t make it sound like I hired them just because they’re hot.”

“Did you?” V asked with a grin.

“No of course not!” Nero cried out defensively, “Anyway whatever, are you good to lock up by yourself?”

“Yes it shouldn’t take me too long,” V replied, “Can you feed Griffon when you get home?

Nero huffed in annoyance at the thought of feeding that little demon chicken.

“Yes, I’ll feed Griffon. See ya at home.”

V gave a subtle goodbye to Nero as he exited the shop and gave one last head pat to Shadow. Still smiling to himself at his sibling's flustered response.

Nero threw on the leather jacket and forced the helmet on his head, rounding the corner to the back of the shop where Red Queen was parked. He paused, letting his brother’s words playback in his head. It had been a while since he was in the dating game. It wasn’t like he was sad after his breakup; it was mutual and they remained on good terms, but he was getting antsy to the point that V had noticed.

Nero huffed, and mounted the motorcycle, kicking it into gear and speeding off.

Hope you enjoyed :)

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc 5 #devil may cry 5 #dmc 4 #devil may cry 4 #dmc nero #dmc v #dmc vitale #nero x reader #nero x gender neutral reader #nero x gn!reader #dmc nero x reader #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry fanfic #blue writes

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felassan · 3 years

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Article: ‘The Most Powerful Woman in Gaming Wants to Make EA Loved Again’

Laura Miele is helping direct the company toward a future where it’s more attuned with consumers.

One of the first things Laura Miele did when she became chief studios officer of Electronic Arts Inc. three years ago was to gather 19 video game influencers in a conference room. “What do you want me to hear? Lay it on me,” she recalls asking them. “One guy sitting at the corner of the table, he just said, ‘I don’t understand why you don’t give players what they’re asking for.’ ”

[rest of article under cut for length, pasted as Bloomberg has an article read limit]

It’s something many gamers have wondered about EA for years. The $40 billion company, one of the biggest in gaming, is responsible for Battlefield, Madden NFL, and other megahit franchises. But many gamers have long seen EA as a necessary evil, resenting the direction in which it took some games and bristling at its aggressive attempts to extract money by charging extra for digital items in games that cost as much as $70 upfront. This dissatisfaction was no secret in 2018: Gamers spent their days filling up Reddit and other message boards with free advice for EA—but many felt its decision-makers weren’t listening.

EA’s leadership knows it has to improve that relationship, and Miele is a key player in its efforts to do so. Her focus group asked for new content for Star Wars Battlefront II and requested new types of games. Miele quickly assigned 70 people to the Battlefront development project, which dramatically improved its net promoter score, a measure of how likely people are to recommend the game. She also prompted EA to create a skateboarding game and committed to reintroducing its college football franchise, the two genres at the top of the influencers’ list.

In a sense, the guy at the meeting became a stand-in for all of EA’s long-suffering customers in Miele’s eyes. “I wanted to do right by this player,” she says.

As chief studios officer, Miele manages 6,000 staffers and thousands of contractors globally. She oversees EA’s 24 studios, where she makes personnel decisions and sets strategy, and she’s reshaped how the company uses analytics to create and market its games.

In the process she may have become the most powerful woman in gaming. In a 2019 International Game Developers Association survey, fewer than 30% of the more than 1,100 respondents were women, and few if any hold a more central role at such an important company. “It’s a tough place for a woman,” says Peter Moore, who was Miele’s boss when he was EA’s chief operating officer. “It wasn’t always smooth sailing, but she battled her way through.”

Proving good intentions is more important for EA than ever, as the business model of gaming continues to shift in ways that have the potential to alienate customers. Like its rivals, the company is increasing its focus on free-to-play games, making money through sales of digital products such as outfits and weapons for characters.

There are signs it’s succeeding. Apex Legends, EA’s free-to-play hero shooter game, has posted more than $1 billion in sales since it was first published in 2019, and it continues to grow. “The way to succeed with free-to-play games like that is to listen to and engage your customer base and earn their loyalty through incremental purchases,” says Doug Clinton, managing partner of the venture capital firm Loup Ventures, who says Miele deserves much of the credit for Apex Legends. “It feels like a proof point for her that the company is adapting well beyond traditional disk sales.”

Miele, 51, was born in San Francisco but grew up on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. She got her start in games—the kind that require a board—during family nights, when she pitted herself against her brother in Monopoly, Clue, Yahtzee, and backgammon. While attending the University of Nevada at Las Vegas, she worked at architectural companies. By the time she dropped out she’d moved on from receptionist positions to more senior roles, while gaining a reputation for organizing lunch-hour card games with her co-workers.

Miele landed a job as a project manager at Westwood Studios, a video game developer best known for Command and Conquer, in 1996. She eventually took over all marketing for its parent company, Virgin Interactive.

It wasn’t always a hospitable atmosphere: Miele remembers her colleagues expecting her to take notes at meetings, then clean up afterward. “That is just not something I would do today,” she says. “I adapted a lot because I was so passionate about what I was doing. I found my voice along the way.”

When EA acquired Westwood in 1998, she stayed on. At the time, the company did revenue forecasting by looking at sales data once a month and putting together spreadsheets by hand. Miele was tasked with developing more advanced analytics. She hired a group of data analysts, nicknamed “the Jedi,” and had them build EA’s first statistical regression models to examine sales trends, seasonality, and preorders. It took almost two years to put the system in place, but it overhauled the company’s business processes, and executives were soon using it to determine how to invest in advertising and promotions. “I loved how data and analytics can inform your judgment and your gut instinct,” Miele says.

Miele also decided to make one major break with EA’s existing business practices. In 2011 about 80% of game advertising budgets were spent on TV ads. But she saw how much time gamers spent online and decided to spend the bulk of the ad budget for Battlefield 3 on digital, downplaying other types of ads and cutting the TV ad budget to only 30%.

Messing around with the plan for Battlefield 3 was a good way to make people nervous. Miele remembers two executives calling her in for a meeting and demanding to know why they weren’t seeing billboards for the game as they drove in to the office. “It was scary for me, too, and I don’t blame our executives questioning me on that,” she says. But the game ended up being EA’s fastest-selling, moving more than 5 million copies in its first week. From that point, Miele’s marketing strategy became the standard for the company.

When EA signed a 10-year deal with Walt Disney Co. in 2013, Miele became Star Wars general manager. In 2014 she took over publishing operations, marketing, and other key areas, first in the North American region, then globally in 2016. At the time, the game industry was moving from physical disks to digital downloads, transforming its relationship with retail partners such as Walmart Inc. and Best Buy Co.

Miele was in charge of smoothing things over, explaining that EA would start competing with them for customers even as the retailers accounted for the largest portion of the revenue. “I never said to them, ‘Hey, see you later, we are moving on,’ ” she says. “It was, ‘How can we move forward together?’ ” EA began making physical cards with digital credits that its retail partners could sell at their stores, allowing them to share in the revenue from digital sales.

EA’s studios are spread around the globe, and Covid-19 altered Miele’s routine radically. “It was a very difficult year, and I’m really proud about how our company showed up,” she says. “I considered myself a wartime leader last year. You had to get in a bunker with everybody.”

Days became an endless progression of Zoom calls. To keep up with gamers, Miele started spending evenings listening to Clubhouse chats while answering work emails. Because she hasn’t been on the road, she’s also had more time to dine at home and play board games or Apex Legends and The Sims with her 16-year-old twins. As the pandemic retreats in the U.S., her schedule might change, but she still envisions providing more flexibility to her employees to work from home and office. “I do think we’re going to have a different work environment as we go forward,” she says.

Miele is itching to get back to the studio visits. She’s helping steer EA further toward smartphones. The company plans to release mobile versions of Apex Legends globally this year and spent $2.1 billion in April for Glu Mobile Inc., a mobile game publisher, while also preparing the next releases in its existing franchises. “I think the next Battlefield and the mobile shooter games, along with how successful the M&As come out will be key litmus tests of her management this year,” says Matt Kanterman, an analyst with Bloomberg Intelligence. “Her scope is clearly rising.”

— With Dina Bass and Jason Schreier

[source]

#video games #interesting..#long post #longpost

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