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cozage · 5 months

Note

hiii!! i love you’re writing sm, been following you for awhile but haven’t sent in a request before!!

i’ve been craving for some sanji angst as a treat… i was thinking a scenario where the mc and sanji fall in love but can’t be together due to various reasons (like them being on different crews & can’t seeeach other enough, etc). i want LONGING i want PAIN i want STAR-CROSSED LOVERS… if you want to write it ofc :)

remember to take breaks and stay hydrated and healthy !! take care <3

Hi! I need a few more days to recoup, but Monday I’ll be back with TDR. Here’s another small thing I wrote while I’ve been away.

This is going to be fun four-part mini series 💕 Here's part one!

Characters: female reader x Sanji CW: none Word Count:1k

Introduction

He came into your life like a knight in shining armor.

Not that you needed one. But it was certainly nice to have.

You had been shopping for your crew, trying to find the correct ingredients to prepare some of your best dishes. You never knew what the New World had in store, so it was best to stock up when you got the chance.

And then a group of men shoved you to the ground, demanding your money and your possessions.

You were just about to teach them a lesson when a blonde-haired man roundhouse kicked them all at once, instantly knocking them unconscious.

“Are you okay, my lady?” He asked, extending a hand out to you.

“Yes, thank you.” Normally you wouldn’t have taken a stranger's offer to help you up, but his blue eyes only showed kindness in them.

As you stood to your feet and brushed yourself off, the man instantly began picking up your scattered belongings.

“That’s okay, I can pick them up.”

“Nonsense.” He smiled at you, holding out your basket with all of your things neatly packed inside. “A lady shouldn’t have to pick up things off the ground.”

You ignored his chivalry. “Is there anything I can do to repay you for helping me out with those thugs? I have money-“

“I will not take money from a lady,” the blonde said, a smirk on his face. “But I would like a date.”

Oh he was bold. Very bold. You weren’t sure how you felt about it, but he had piqued your interest.

“Very well,” you smiled, trying to ignore the blush rushing to your cheeks. “Take me on the best date you possibly can, er-“

“Sanji,” he said quickly. “My name is Sanji.”

You introduced yourself as well, and then he led you off away from the marketplace and toward the coast.

You were a bit delusional, letting a strange man take you on a date. Perhaps you had hit your head when you were pushed down. It was about the only explanation for doing this. You were normally so cautious, especially when it came to pirate ports on the Grand Line.

“What are you thinking about, my dear?” His question jerked you from your thoughts.

“Honestly?” You chuckled. “I’m thinking how insane it is that I’m going off alone with some stranger. You could kill me and nobody would even know I was gone.”

“Sure that’s not true,” Sanji said, scowling. “You have to have someone who cares about you.”

You shrugged. “My crew is all I’ve got.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a pirate?”

You gave him a teasing smirk. “Does that scare you?”

“Not at all,” he hummed. “It must be quite the life.”

“It’s a good life. Better than I had before.” You instantly regretted your words. You shouldn’t have given him a reason to pry.

But he didn’t ask any further questions, thankfully. The two of you arrived at the coast just in time to see the sun begin to sink behind the waves.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time to make your date perfect. I’m afraid we’ll have to settle for a sunset on the beach.” Sanji sounded disappointed, but you appreciated something simple.

“You shouldn’t try too hard on the first date anyway. You can’t show all your cards at once,” you said in a joking tone. It’s not like you’d get another date with him. You’d be gone by sunrise.

“What is your dream date?” Sanji asked. “For next time.”

You laughed at his joke now, but you thought long and hard about your answer. You couldn’t be this vulnerable with your crew. It was nice to have someone who wanted to hear your opinion on things.

“This is pretty close,” you admitted. “A sunset on the beach. I would just have to add a bottle of wine.”

Sanji raised a curly eyebrow at you. “That can’t be all.”

You sighed. It wasn’t.

“Flowers,” you said. “I’d like a guy to bring me flowers. Oh! And have somebody cook for me for once. And…” you bit your lip, embarrassed to say the next part. But Sanji’s encouraging gaze pushed you on.

“I really want to go dancing. Even if it’s just a dance with street music. It’s silly, I know-”

“It’s not silly, mon cherie.” His eyes were aglow listening to you speak, and you felt like for the first time in your life, you had finally been heard.

You smiled back at him and returned your gaze to the sunset, silently watching it sink beneath the sea.

“Are you a cook?” Sanji finally asked. “You said earlier you wanted someone to cook for you.”

Your face scrunched at his question. “I’m not very good, but my crew mates don’t complain too much.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing,” Sanji said. “I’ll cook for you every day, if you want.”

You wanted to stay with him. You wanted to ask him to join your crew, but your captain was strict on who he let in. You couldn’t even extend the offer to this amazing man in front of you. You’d have to break his heart instead.

“I can’t stay here, Sanji,” you finally whispered. “I’ll be gone by morning.”

Sanji grabbed your hand and held them tightly. He didn’t look sad though. He looked hopeful.

“Our paths will cross again,” he promised.

“I hope the fates allow that to happen.”

And with a quick kiss on the cheek, you left him on the beach, hoping that somehow, he was right.

You missed him desperately. You thought about him constantly. Every time you landed on an island, a piece of you searched for his blonde hair and blue eyes. You knew you wouldn’t find him, but you still had to search.

“Are you okay?” your captain, Berk, finally asked you. “You’ve been different recently.”

“I’m fine,” you said. “I just made a connection with one of the locals on an island recently. I kind of miss him, that’s all.”

Berk raised his eyebrow at you at the mention of you missing another person who wasn’t on the crew, and you could see his body tense.

“Come on girl.” He gave a nervous laugh. “You know we’re the only family you’ve got.”

You gave a sad smile and turned back to the meal you were preparing. “I know, Berk. I know.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #sanji #cozage #black leg sanji #sanji vinsmoke #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #✧˚sanji✧˚

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annie-creates · 19 days

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Fool me too

Pairing: Lady Lesso x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1000

Note: Happy April Fool's! And Easter Monday! This day just calls for a fic like this.

You could have expected it. Should have, really. As the freezing cold water slowly seeps into your clothes being watered down from head to toe, you’re more disappointed in yourself rather than your students. They were the offsprings of pure evil after all, rotten to their very core. After the salt and sugar switched in your morning coffee, stinky mushrooms exploding in your office and poisonous vines sneakily hanging from the hallway’s ceilings, you should have known better than to step into your classroom without checking it out first.

April fools was after all a very popular concept amongst the nevers so you would be almost let down if they didn’t try to achieve some misdemeanors this week. And it was only Monday. How are you gonna get through the whole week you had no idea. Maybe it’s time to put on one of those scary armors that roam the corridors or just take a vacation. That however would be a sign of weakness and cowardice and that was foreign to you as a fellow never.

So you teach the lesson proudly in your wet clothes and at the end leave after all your students. You carefully turn every corner, looking out for any clues on their next trap. You spend the rest of your day watching over your shoulder and rather carefully tasting everything you’re about to eat or drink. You’re determined to not let them fool you even one more time, the score already being too prone in their favor. They keep teasing you a little longer and you’ll come up with a payback so severe they could never see it coming.

Clearly you weren’t observant enough tho because as you’re walking over the bridge talking with Dovey after today’s dinner, she steps on a wire that activates a mechanism which pushes you both over the edge into the muddy water. As if you weren’t soaked and humiliated enough for today, as you crawl out from the water to the small beach by the castle, a thrower full of confetti and glitter explodes over you. The laughter of your students fades as they run away, hopefully at least a little scared of your possible revenge.

You make your way into your bedroom, luckily without any other stupid pranks in your way. Your wife is already comfortably sprawled over the sofa in front of the lit fireplace and the flames dance over her face making her ginger hair shine more than usual. You sigh heavily as you close the door and she looks over at you from the book in her lap, clearly finding your state very amusing.

“Shut up.” You warn her before she can even say anything.

“I wasn’t going to laugh at you.” Leonora says but her face betrays her.

“Yeah, very funny. This is all your doing anyway.” You pester her.

“How come?” Lesso questions with her head tilted slightly to the side.

“You raised them like this. Audacious and impudent. You’re responsible for their stupid jokes.” But even you knew you couldn’t blame all the student’s effrontery on their dean.

“Why don’t you rather go clean up in the bathroom?” She offers instead.

“If YOU try to fool with me I swear to heavens I’m gonna divorce you.“ You warn your wife as you make your way to the sink.

Lucky for you, or more for her, she didn’t play any childish pranks on you and you took a long shower without her interrupting. It took a lot of effort getting all the mud and confetti off yourself and you’ll be lucky if your dress is still gonna be washable and wearable. There was still some glitter in your hair and skin you couldn’t get rid of, but it’ll have to be enough for now. When you return to the warmed-up bedroom, your wife is still sitting in the same position reading her book.

“If it’s going to make you feel better, I’m gonna threaten them all with a good long stay in the doom room tomorrow.” She proposed as she extended the blanket draped over her legs for you to sit under it next to her.

“It’s fine. I’ll just have to be more alert. It’s a good practice.” You admit, not really mad at your students anymore. “You should see my office, it’s a disaster.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it? I’m sure you won’t let them fool you again.” Leonora comforts you as she kisses your forehead.

“It’s not bad, it’s even worse. This morning they switched the sugar and salt, so my breakfast was ruined. My office stinks like a hundred years old troll and I had to spend a whole hour teaching soaking wet. I could hardly get a word out over the teeth chattering. Which I’m sure they found pretty amusing.” You explain all that happened in your horrendous day. “Mother-fucking stupid April fools.”

“Well it sure will be better tomorrow.” Lesso instinctively tries to warm you up.

“I should probably be proud of them for succeeding, but they better watch out tomorrow cause I’m coming back after them.” You admit, picking on the loose strands of the blanket.

“I’m sure it will settle down, they just got too excited for today.” She admits, if there’s anything that bores the nevers it’s repeating stuff they already succeeded in.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I’m tasting the sugar before I put it in my coffee this week though.” You remind both yourself and her reaching out for your own book that was waiting for you on the coffee table.

You settle down next to Leonora leaning on her shoulder as you get back to reading your own unfinished book before going to bed. A cozy, calm, silent evening was what you needed right now after a day full of surprises and pranks. Little did you know she wasn’t really paying attention to the words in her book anymore, already planning her revenge on her students for tormenting her beloved wife.

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ravixen · 1 year

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seungcheol ; until the flowers bloom

➔ synopsis: Sir Seungcheol has separated from his expedition, and you don't have the heart to turn him away this winter season.

warnings: x fem!OC (Nihyun) || genre: slice of life, kind of fluff 2380 words || scenario || somewhat royal!au || cwc secret santa

➔ notes: *insert josh a-teen voice* surprise, @nihyunluvskookie, I'm your cwc secret santa! it's been lovely getting to know you and seeing our similarities. I'm glad you became a carat; you have so much adoration and respect for seungcheol, and it honestly warms my heart. I only had a handful of days to knock this out, but I hope you like it!! I used second person perspective, but the character is addressed as Lady Nihyun :) for anyone who's NOT nihyun, another monday means another post! free to read and reblog as well!

You wake up to the sight of delicate frost lining the edges of your windows, sparkling in the morning sun. A bit early this year, you note with a stretch that pops your joints. That either means a long winter ahead or an early spring. For the sake of your dwindling resources, you hope that it's the latter. Outside, brown leaves flutter on wizened branches, barely hanging on after last night's rain. A strong wind would make them join their friends on the ground soon enough.

By the time you make it to the downstairs dining room for breakfast, Mingyu already has a fire roaring in the hearth and four platters set out: one for himself, one for you, one for Jeonghan, and one for Joshua. A familiar scene if not for the trembling body sitting before the flames, their hair dripping water onto the floor.

Mingyu exits the kitchen with a fifth plate and catches sight of you hesitating on the staircase. "Lady Nihyun," he says, getting the attention of the newcomer. Mingyu glances between the two of you. "I apologize for not asking you sooner, but I found him unconscious by the door this morning. I had to bring him in."

The stranger pushes to his feet, body creaking with the metal armor still on his limbs. It's his broad build that makes you step back, fingers curling around the banister—he's nearly as wide as Mingyu—but the sincerity in his eyes and placating hands at least earns him the chance for an explanation.

Choi Seungcheol, he says his name is, though his identification papers are too damp to verify. He was part of Lord Soonyoung's returning expedition, but yesterday's storm blew him off course and separated him from the rest. He pushed forward, hoping for shelter, until he came across this manor and collapsed on the front steps.

"Will they be looking for you?" Jeonghan asks, though his hand is itching towards Joshua's bread. He's promptly slapped away before his fingers could find their prize. "We have to run errands in the town today. Could bring you along if you'd like to ask around."

"I would appreciate it," he says. Even with his armor off, he could pass for nothing but a knight. Maybe a particularly handsome lumberjack, but the training is evident in his posture, his manners, the way he averts his eyes when he meets your gaze over the table. "Protocol states that they will spend two days searching for missing members before moving on, hoping to hear from any messengers. I could send a bird so that they don't delay."

Joshua winces. "Only two days?"

"We don't often stray far, and a day alone casts a wide enough net."

"Where were you before the storm started?"

Seungcheol doesn't exactly remember the name of the town, but he describes the paths they took and the distinct obelisk that stands tall in a market square. He pauses when everyone frowns. "Is something wrong?"

"That's three towns away—a day or two's ride on a good day and nearly impossible now that autumn is ending," Joshua says, hesitating. "How did you end up here?"

Your workers look amongst themselves, and it doesn't take a genius to recognize the distrust settling into the lines of their frowns. Jeonghan, ever the mediator, claps his hands when the silence starts to get awkward.

"No use asking questions without answers," he insists with a practiced smile. "Why don't you finish eating and change into dry clothing before we head out? Mingyu has a few extra shirts. You can also take one of our horses while yours rests. We'll be there and back by late afternoon."

You almost feel bad about him not having a moment to orient himself, but Seungcheol only nods, shoulders squared. The sooner, the better, it seems. Once everything is cleared away and they set off, Joshua turns to you.

"You've been quiet, my lady."

"I've been thinking."

"Do you trust his words?"

"I do," you admit. Joshua scans your expression for a flicker of doubt. There is none. "The temperature has started to drop; I doubt that he'll make it out of the area before winter falls. Would it be a bother to house him for a bit? At least until the flowers bloom?"

Joshua's jaw sets as he looks out the window. You both know that you don't need his opinion. You're the lady of the manor; he's merely your gardener. It feels like forever before he finally responds, giving your hand a squeeze. "That is up to your discretion, my lady. I suggest talking it through with Jeonghan before making a decision."

Of course, Jeonghan is wary when you tell him your suggestion, but little can be done. Seungcheol sent a note through the local aviary. It would be easier for him to find his own way home than to await the expedition—at least, that's what he wrote in the message.

"And you know how expensive it is this season." It's one of the reasons why Jeonghan is lodging with you, after all. "How is he going to afford living in town until the snow melts and he can return?"

Like Joshua, Jeonghan regards you cautiously. "Why are you going out of your way to be charitable?" he asks lowly, his head huddled close with yours. In the next room over, Mingyu is giving Seungcheol a tour of the library.

Your gaze is fixed on the suit of armor standing in the corner. "That coat of arms on the shoulder—I've seen before in my parents' notes. In the past, his people saved my family, and I figure it's my turn to return the favor." You tilt your head. "Besides, can you look him in the eyes and kick him out when the first snowfall comes?"

As you predict, the first snowfall occurs days later, blanketing the earth in a thin layer of powder white, and Jeonghan officially offers a guest room to your home's newest addition. Though Seungcheol has little to offer financially—you insist on him saving it for the spring—he soon proves his worth to your daily routines. He helps Mingyu with the wood chopping, quickly trusted to do the job himself and bring the split logs into the shed to dry. He spends most of his time loitering in the kitchen, warmed by Mingyu's constant cooking flame, but he also drifts to the corners of the manor, finally addressing those leaky faucets and creaky floorboards that no one's gotten around to. He matches Jeonghan's wit, and Jeonghan finds excitement in having another brain to pick. He even manages to win over Joshua by talking about the greenhouse.

The air outside gets cold, but inside your walls, it couldn't be livelier. You don't miss the wide berth Seungcheol gives you, though; you're not sure whether it's from your workers' warnings or of his own volition. Does it matter? He greets you every morning with a perfunctory bow and murmur of Lady Nihyun before settling into conversation with the others. You can't get a word in edge-wise.

You poke your head into the library where Seungcheol and Joshua sit, sharing a laugh about a joke you caught the tail end of.

"Seungcheol, can you pass me that book? The one on your left."

He pauses his story, something related to a tavern Joshua recognizes, to pick up the book you're pointing to. "This one, my lady?"

"Yes, thank you."

Instead of walking it over, he hands it to your gardener with a whisper, and it's Joshua who gives you the book with an apologetic smile. You hold the mathematical tome to our chest as you turn around and march back to Jeonghan's waiting office. You didn't miss the slip of Seungcheol's expression when you addressed him.

You're determined not to dwell on it.

Days melt into weeks, and it takes a full month before Seungcheol finally lets his guard down enough to talk to you. And that happens because you accidentally take the matter into your own hands. You come downstairs and find your workers in the drawing room, bent over individual projects.

"I want to take a ride," you tell them.

All four men stop to look at you. You tug on your fur-lined gloves—the last touch to your winter riding outfit—and stand expectantly by the door.

"I'm on a roll with my writing for once," Jeonghan says, looking to the rest. His reading glasses are perched low on his nose, and his pen hovers over still-drying ink. Mingyu and Joshua murmur similar excuses. Seungcheol keeps his eyes on the floor and says nothing. "We took the horses out not that long ago. If you can wait until tomorrow, I can go with you."

You purse your lips, then shrug. "Worry not, I can go by myself," you say and pull your hood over your head. "I will see you all in a bit."

"Wait—" Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joshua scrambling to his feet, but you've already closed the front door.

At their insistence, you've been sitting indoors, all warm and toasty, while they took turns exercising the horses. A brief walk every few days and a longer hike at least once a week—that's enough to get them through the season, but you miss your baby.

She neighs as you approach and takes your offered carrot with a whip of her head.

"It's been a while, huh?" you murmur, leaning your forehead against her cheek. "Hopefully I still remember how to ride you."

You reach for the stall latch, but another gloved hand makes it there first. Your eyes drag up the arm and find that it's attached to none other than Choi Seungcheol, who gives you a quiet nod and helps you set up your saddle. He lifts you onto your horse as you swing your legs over, his hands warm on your waist even through all the layers, and once he's on his own steed, he leads you down the path you've grown up with.

You wait for him to say something. Anything, really. Yet there's nothing but the crunch of snow beneath sure hooves and the echoing caws in sparse trees. You're tired of this. When you pass a branch laden with snow, you scoop some into your hands, pack it into a tight ball, and throw it out in front of you. It hits him square in the back and crumbles.

Still nothing. He only pauses for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. Urging your horse faster, you round in front of him and skid to a stop in the middle of the path.

"Why do you keep avoiding me?" you blurt out.

"What?" He actually looks startled, pulling on the reins to bring his own horse to a stop. "What do you mean, my lady?"

"You've been here for so long, and the entire time, it feels like you've been avoiding me." You frown. "If you don't like me or if I've done something to disrespect you, I'd rather know now."

"Oh. I'm sorry you thought that way." He offers you a tentative smile, and like the spring sun cresting a winter hill, it makes your heart sing of hope. He doesn't look upset with you or your boldness. "I didn't mean to come off that way. You just...if I may be candid, my lady."

You nod. Your horse stamps impatiently.

"You make me nervous."

Blinking, you realize that you haven't exactly extended your own olive branch. "You're right," you say slowly. "I'm the lady of the manor." The casualness of your relationships with your workers is uncommon in certain circles; you never explicitly told Seungcheol that he can be relaxed around you, too. "I should have realized that you didn't want to accidentally offend me by overstepping boundaries. It must have been easier talking to the others."

"That's not quite—" He shakes his head, a laugh bubbling in his chest. "Sure. That's what it is."

"I apologize."

"No need for apologies, my lady. Can I take this as approval to be closer to you?"

Something in his boyish charm must be pure magic because the way the wind ruffles his hair and brightens his face enchants you into breathing yes.

Without Seungcheol keeping his distance, you discover many things about him. How comforting his voice is when he mediates yet another argument that sparks between Mingyu and Jeonghan. How charming his smile is when you overhear his muttered comments and he looks at you, eyes full of mirth like you're sharing a secret across the table. How contagious his laugh is when he manages to slip a pinch of snow down Joshua's back while you're distracting him. How amusing his pout is when Jeonghan scolds him and uses his full name.

"You've effectively charmed him, my lady," Mingyu tells you as you sit on the kitchen island, legs swinging as you wait for him to finish your masala chai. "Whatever you did during that horse ride worked."

And then a thought dawns across his face, and he turns to you with the most suspicious expression as he demands, "What happened on the horse ride?"

"Nothing," you're quick to say, though perhaps too quick because his gaze lingers. "Mingyu, we simply talked."

Talking is as far as you'll go with Seungcheol, but during the late hours of the night, you twist and turn in your bed, wondering exactly what he meant by you make me nervous with a dust of rose on his cheeks. Even if you dare to hope in the deepest crevices of the dark, reality is quick to put you into place by reminding you that he is only here until the flowers bloom.

#caratwritersclub #cwcss2022 #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol fluff #s.coups scenarios #s.coups fluff #g: svt #m: seungcheol #t: scenario #s: notrequested #ravixen #royalau

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yu-gi-poll · 6 months

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(Click the image + open image in new tab for better quality!)

Thank you to my sister @marwamarwa for making the bracket image! It took a lot of work & I really appreciate it :)

This will be a 128-contestant, single-elimination tournament. The bracket will be split into four sets, each comprising of 16 polls that will last a week. Each set, aside from being shown in the above image, will be listed below alongside the date it'll be posted. When the polls come out, I'll link them below.

Match-ups written out below the cut:

ROUND 1A

Will be posted on Thursday, 10/12, with all 16 polls being queued for between 12 PM and 2 PM EST.

Kuriboh vs. Sangan

Kuribabylon vs. Kuribandit

Kuriboh Brothers vs. Silent Magician

Dark Magician vs. Dark Magician Girl

Magician of Faith vs. Witch of the Black Forest

Pumpking the King of Ghosts vs. Maha Vailo

Great Mammoth of Goldfine vs. The Snake Hair

Man-Eater Bug vs. Morphing Jar

Diabound Kernal vs. Divine Serpent Geh

Guardian Eatos vs. Guardian Dreadscythe

The Claw of Hermos vs. The Fang of Critias

The Eye of Timaeus vs. Timaeus the Knight of Destiny

Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon vs. Obelisk the Tormenter

Blue-Eyes Toon Dragon vs. Blue-Eyes White Dragon

Ancient Dragon vs. Dragon Master Knight

Black Luster Soldier vs. Magician of Black Chaos

ROUND 1B

Will be posted on Saturday, 10/14, with all 16 polls being queued for between 12 PM and 2 PM EST.

Flame Swordsman vs. Jinzo

Gilford the Lightning vs. Gearfried the Iron Knight

Alligator's Sword vs. Rocket Warrior

Beaver Warrior vs. Catapult Turtle

Baby Dragon vs. Time Wizard

Red Eyes Black Dragon vs. Thousand Dragon

Psychic Armor Head vs. Red Eyes Black Dragon Sword

Air Fortress Ziggurat vs. Chaos Emperor Dragon- Envoy of the End

Castle of Dark Illusions vs. Labyrinth Wall

Gate Guardian vs. Shadow Ghoul

Relinquished vs. Thousand-Eyes Restrict

Illusionist Faceless Mage vs. Legendary Fiend

Toon Dark Magician Girl vs. Toon Summoned Skull

Giant Soldier of Stone vs. Summoned Skull

Celtic Guardian vs. Breaker the Magical Warrior

Curse of Dragon vs. Winged Dragon, Guardian of the Fortress

ROUND 1C

Will be posted on Monday, 10/16, with all 16 polls being queued for between 12 PM and 2 PM EST.

Dragon Lady vs. Dragon Piper

Kung Fu Nyan Nyan vs. Thunder Nyan Nyan

Kunoichi Ayame the Ninja Girl vs. Ninja Master Shogun

Insect Queen vs. The Legendary Fisherman

Prinzessin vs. Thorn Princess

Hexe Trude vs. Globerman

Harpie Lady vs. Valkyrie Brunhilde

Harpie Lady Sisters vs. Harpie's Pet Dragon

Cyber Harpie Lady vs. Amazoness Chain Master

Cure Mermaid vs. Injection Fairy Lily

Darklord Marie vs. St. Joan

Shinato, King of a Higher Plane vs. Exodia Necross

Exodia the Forbidden One vs. Winged Dragon of Ra

Right Arm of the Forbidden One vs. Slifer the Sky Dragon

Holding Arms vs. Holding Legs

Agido vs. Mystical Beast of Serket

ROUND 1D

Will be posted on Wednesday, with all 16 polls being queued for between 12 PM and 2 PM EST.

Marshmallon vs. Watapon

Petit Dragon vs. Shining Friendship

Flying Elephant vs. Zera the Mant

Barrel Dragon vs. Metalzoa

Machine King vs. Robotic Knight

Axe Raider vs. Orgoth the Relentless

Alpha the Magnet Warrior vs. King's Knight

Beta the Magnet Warrior vs. Queen's Knight

Gamma the Magnet Warrior vs. Jack's Knight

Knight of Twin Swords vs. Reflect Bounder

Cosmo Queen vs. Mystical Elf

Musician King vs. Trap Master

Black Tyranno vs. Serpent Night Dragon

Poison Butterfly vs. Parasite Paracide

La Jinn Mystical Genie of the Lamp vs. XYZ-Dragon Cannon

Glassman vs. Gearfried the Swordsmaster

#yugipoll #yugioh #yu-gi-oh #yugioh dm #yu-gi-oh dm #yugioh duel monsters #yu-gi-oh duel monsters #duel monsters #poll bracket #poll tournament #polls

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sapphire-weapon · 10 months

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So, I’ve been going through FFXVI a second time on NG+ in Final Fantasy mode (and, in case anyone is wondering, FFXVI is the same as literally every other FF in the sense that, once you’ve figured out how the combat system actually works, you can break the game, and it really doesn’t matter how artificially difficult they try to make it. FF mode feels easier than Action Focused mode to me, because this time through, I have a broken as fuck build).

What I’ve decided to do this time around is to just mainline the story. I have skipped every single sidequest and only done the main campaign.

This game is very, very different when you do that. This game’s sidequests work against it in a big way.

I didn’t realize just how quickly the plot moves from Cid rescuing Clive and Jill to the five-year timeskip. It’s really fucking fast. Part of the reason why I was so critical about the plot just moving on from the tragedy of Rosaria and Clive’s trauma about Joshua’s murder was because, the first time I went through this game, I did every single sidequest, and I did them as soon as they became available -- so I stewed in Clive’s misery far longer than the main story, I think, intended.

For reference, I played this game from 9PM PST on Wednesday the 21st and beat it at like 2am PST on Monday the 26th. All of Wednesday night and most of Thursday was spent with Clive still in his Imperial armor; I hadn’t even made it to Eastpool yet and gotten the new outfit from Lady Hanna. That’s how long I sat with him and his trauma.

I spent nearly a full day and a half with the version of Clive that stopped in the center of a bridge and looked over the side of it, contemplating whether he should throw himself off -- the version of Clive who breaks down crying and wondering why he hasn’t killed himself yet.

So -- yeah, it was really jarring to me to sit with guilt-ridden, traumatized Clive for that long and then, out of nowhere, have Joshua just fucking... show up again and everything is fine, don’t worry about it shut up.

Skipping those sidequests and going straight through the story makes that transition far less baffling and upsetting. It’s still not great; it’s still not handled very well; but it’s way better.

The biggest issue is that there’s never a conversation about it. The timeskip happens, and then Clive is sitting at his desk and Jill’s like “Joshua gave us a second chance” as though it’s just a normal fucking thing to casually say “your dead brother was there with us” to someone --

but, for her, by this point in her life, it is normal for her to say that -- because she and Clive have already had a conversation about it. Multiple, probably. She already helped Clive work through his confusion and his distress and his having to come to terms with his brother still being alive.

But we didn’t get to see that.

We had a whole big gameplay and story sequence dedicated to Clive accepting that he was Joshua’s murderer, but then we got absolutely nothing about how the truth that he’d been forced to accept was still a fucking lie. It was still a lie! It still wasn’t true! And the game just ignores that!

And I get why the timeskip happened where it happened -- why the game didn’t linger on for an extra sequence of Clive and Jill returning to the Hideaway and finding everyone dead and then having to deal with that paired with the shocking reveal of Joshua’s continued survival. I get it. I get that, from a cinematic standpoint, it makes for a better transition to go from Joshua trapping Ultima in his chest to five years later.

But the game also never goes back to it. And that’s the real issue. For the game to go as hard as it did with “You have to accept the truth of what you did” and then... not follow it up with the fact that he didn’t do the thing he accepted that he did is... really bad and lazy.

But by not doing the sidequests, you can see better how short the Cid arc actually was, and so the whole thing does sort of feel like it’s less of a big deal that way than it does when you go through every single sidequest.

That doesn’t excuse it. It doesn’t absolve it. But it does give you a better idea of what the writers’ actual intentions for the story were.

I almost wonder if this game wouldn’t have been better off being structured like FFVII and having the game give us a Nibelheim flashback instead of opening with the Night of Flames -- because, I’ll tell you something else. In NG+, you can still skip the opening if you played the demo. So, for this playthrough of XVI, my game started at the Shiva vs Titan battle. That also helped the transition in the story feel more natural, because you were never there watching this horrible fucking thing happen in real-time.

All you have to go off of are Clive’s stories, and Cid only half-believes him, and Jill doesn’t know what to think -- so it already sets the audience up to doubt that things unfolded exactly as Clive’s insisting they did. It actually builds the framework of the story around “this might not actually be true” instead of opening with the Night of Flames and later finding out LOL JK WE FOOLED YOU.

And instead of having an entire sequence dedicated to Clive accepting that he murdered Joshua, just have him accept the fact that he’s Ifrit and maybe ease up on the murder aspect of it. Because what isn’t done in that sequence is Clive snapping back out of it and going “but wait -- there’s still a second Dominant of fire running around, though. Gav saw him. Benedikta said she had him. I saw the fires he started at Caer Norvent. But, if I’m Ifrit, how can that be? Could Joshua... have lived?”

Because what actually happens is Clive snaps out of it and goes “yep I’m the killer” and “I definitely did that murder” and “I need to atone for the horrible murder that I absolutely did” and never once gives a SINGLE FUCKING THOUGHT to anything else that was actually going on during his search for the truth.

And -- again, I get it. I get that his desire to atone is what brought him back to Cid in the first place. But, like. He still killed everyone fucking else at Phoenix Gate; he can fucking atone for that while still wondering if Joshua himself is still alive. Like, the removal of the one murder doesn’t negate all of the other ones that he actually really, truly did for real. Clive is the reason why Rosaria no longer exists as an independent nation. If he hadn’t awakened as Ifrit that night, Anabella couldn’t have successfully pulled off her coup. So, like... yeah, all of that is still on his head.

It’s just a very simple, easy thing to have included in the story -- and the absence of it really does make me believe that the only reason why the whole concept of Joshua’s murder even existed in the first place was purely for the game’s marketing. And that fucking SUCKS to think about LMAO

#final fantasy xvi #ffxvi spoilers #THIS GAME HAS SO MANY FUCKING PROBLEMS MAN #WHY DO I LIKE IT SO MUCH IT'S SO GARBAGE

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jodithann827 · 1 year

Text

Pretty Woman 7/11

Rating: explicit / posted on AO3 / tagging @today-in-fic

Beverly Hills Country Club

Polo Field

Monday

1:03 pm

The shriek of an air horn sounds at full blast, signifying a start to the day's activities. Mulder walks around to Scully’s side of the car and waits patiently as Langly opens the heavy black door. Mulder reaches a hand out to her, one that she graciously accepts, and she uses his arm to steady herself upon exiting the limo. The day is warm and bright, the sun exploding with blinding light over the open sky. Mulder, sporting a sharp gray suit, looks dapper, though his looks pale in comparison to that of his companion. Clad in a sleeveless, knee-length brown dress with white polka dots, and a thick brown belt resting across her petite waist, Scully looks every bit the part of a wealthy companion of Mulder’s. On her head rests a wide-brimmed white hat adorned with a swatch of brown and white polka dots, and her hair styled in a sleek, low bun. As much as her outfit wears like a suit of armor, her nerves are getting the better of her.

“What if someone recognizes me?” She panics a bit, leaning into Mulder before they make their way to the center of the event.

“We talked about this, Scully, I promise no one will recognize you here. You look amazing, like a lady, although it would help if you stopped fidgeting. You’re going to have fun. I promise.” With that, he draws her hand into his as they make their way to the large crowd.

Mulder stops to introduce Scully to people he recognizes as they weave their way through the droves of well-dressed patrons. Near the announcer’s booth, he greets two ladies with a kiss on each of their cheeks.

“Dana,” he says, using her given name effortlessly, as though he’d been saying it his whole life. It sounds foreign on his lips and even more so to her ears. “Let me introduce you to the Carter sisters; Dori and Christina.” They each shake Scully’s hand and Scully casually nods her head in greeting. Seeing a familiar face out of the corner of his eye, Mulder excuses himself, muttering something about leaving Scully in good hands. For a moment Scully feels like a deer in headlights, but adjusts quickly, giving herself a small pep talk in her head.

“So, Dana, you’re Fox’s flavor of the month,” the one named Christina says.

Scully is taken aback, and it must show on her face, because Dori interjects almost immediately, “Fox is our most eligible bachelor. Every single woman here would love to be in your position. To be on the arm of Fox Mulder, no matter how long,” she explains.

Scully decides she doesn’t particularly want or need to hear anymore. Darting her eyes across the crowd of people, she spots Mulder. She looks at the Carter sisters and says in the steadiest voice she can muster, “Well, I’m just using him for sex,” then triumphantly walks away, unable to believe the words actually left her mouth.

Strolling over in Mulder’s direction, Scully can’t help but notice that he is standing next to a tall, leggy brunette; one who seems to be leaning into Mulder a bit too closely. Perhaps a flavor from another month, she thinks, then immediately chastises herself, as it isn’t her place. As Scully advances on them, the leggy woman backs away, though only moderately.

“Scully,” Mulder says as he sees approaching. He reaches out to draw her in closer, then continues to keep his arm placed firmly, almost territorially, around her back. She moves in closer, tucked into his side like her own personal cocoon. “Scully, this is Diana Fowley, my attorney.” Scully, noting that Mulder introduced her to this woman as Scully and not Dana, reaches out her hand. Diana, after a blink and you miss it, hesitation, reciprocates the gesture.

“Scully,” Diana repeats snidely, “that’s an interesting name.” Scully looks down at her shoes conflictingly.

“You know how much I dislike my first name, Diana, though you seem to be one of the few people who doesn’t follow my request not to use it. Scully told me that if she was going to call me Mulder, then I should call her Scully,” Mulder explains nonchalantly, attempting to smooth over the slight awkwardness he feels in the air.

“Charming,” Diana replies coolly, barely containing the eye roll that is just on the surface.

A tension-filled moment passes before Mulder adds, “I think I see Mr. Spender, over by the bar”

At those words, Diana lifts her head, perking up, though only somewhat. “Well, I should go introduce myself to him.” She turns towards the direction of the bar and walks off without another word to Scully.

Scully moves out of Mulder’s embrace and cocks an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Mulder asks, genuinely confused. Scully tilts her head, as if to quietly say, you’re kidding right? Mulder nods his head, seeming to understand her thoughts. “She’s great once she warms up to people. I’ve known her for ten years. She’s been through many big business deals with me,” Mulder explains, though he isn’t sure why, as he knows he doesn’t owe Scully an explanation.

Scully shrugs. “Not to sound like a high schooler, but she likes you, Mulder,” Scully tells him matter-of-factly. Mulder, having taken a sip of his drink, starts choking a bit. Scully waits patiently for him to compose himself.

“Diana? No way, Scully. You are so off base. You aren’t even near the stadium,” he shakes his head at her. Scully’s mouth twitches and she shakes her head right back at him.

“I’m telling you, Mulder. I know these things. She was all up in your space when I walked over and then she hesitated when she saw me. Not to mention that very welcoming hello and handshake she had for me,” Scully tries explaining. She will never understand how some men are so unbelievably dense when it comes to women.

“She’s protective of me,” Mulder tries explaining it away again, though even he knows it’s a weak argument.

“So what do you think Mr. Spender is doing here?” Scully asks, diverting attention away from what is clearly an uncomfortable topic for Mulder.

“I know he wants an answer from me,” he explains.

Scully looks into his eyes. “I don’t trust him, Mulder. There is something about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I am sure that he is not a good person.” Mulder nods his head slightly.

In the not-so-far distance, an air horn blasts for the second time that day, indicating a pause in the game. Over the loudspeaker, an announcer invites everyone to participate in a polo tradition: stomping out the divots. Mulder eagerly grabs Scully’s hand, like a child with their parents on Christmas morning, and leads her to the field. There, he continues to clasp her hand as they stomp divots together. He looks down at her, affection filling his eyes, and shares a genuine smile with her. They don’t see Diana glaring suspiciously at them from the shade of a tree.

After the ceremonial stomping of the divots ends, Mulder leads Scully to a chair and a polo club employee begins to clean her dirt-caked shoes; another time-honored polo tradition. He then leaves her, begrudgingly, to go in search of Spender. Scully continues to take in her surroundings, observing the different people, their body language, guests and employees, and how they interact with each other. She likes observing people; it’s helped get her this far in life.

“Dana,” someone calls from behind her, and she’s pulled from her thoughts. She turns in the direction of the speaker and sees Jeffery Spender, the young man from the other evening, approaching. Scully slips her now clean shoes back on and stands to greet him.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he confesses to her. “Come meet my horse,” he says warmly, attempting to guide her toward the stables.

“Fox is around here somewhere,” she tells him, unsure if she should accompany him to the stables. While his father gave her an unsettling feeling, she didn’t think anything of junior. “He’s probably schmoozing,” she adds. She looks over her shoulder and, not seeing Mulder, decides to hell with it, and walks towards the stables with Jeffrey. “I didn’t know you were playing in the match,” she tells him as they approach his horse. Scully reaches out a soft hand and strokes the horse's mane. They make chit-chat for a bit, about nothing consequential. Scully is pleasantly surprised that he is a decent conversationalist, though they don’t share much.

Across the polo field, Mulder is chatting with a colleague when Diana approaches in a huff, inserting herself into their conversation.

“Did you get a chance to talk to Spender–” he begins.

“Where did you meet her?” Diana asks abruptly, almost accusatory. Mulder bids his colleague farewell and gives all his focus to Diana.

“I’m sorry?” Mulder asks, genuinely misunderstanding her question.

“This Scully person. Where did you meet her?” she repeats, her patience limited.

“I was asking for directions and there she was,” Mulder states in a half-truth. Diana tilts her head in disbelief.

“What does she do for work?” Diana pushes in a rather aggressive way.

Mulder bites the bottom lip, then replies, “She’s in sales.”

“Sales?” Diana parrots, both of her eyebrows reaching the top of her forehead.

“What’s with the third degree, Diana? You’ve never questioned any of my dates before,” he asks curiously. Diana lets out a dismissive laugh. “Okay, maybe once or twice, but what gives?”

“You’ve been different these last few days, Fox. It was subtle at first, but now I’ve seen it a bit more,” she explains, honestly.

“That’s absurd,” Mulder immediately retorts, his defenses on the rise.

“I’ve seen it, you’ve been different. Hemming and hawing on business deals, getting in late to work, that tie,” she indicates, poking a finger at the tie a very naked Scully was wearing just the night before. Mulder blushes, thinking of their evening.

“I think this woman is changing you, Fox, and not for the better. I don’t trust her, especially not when I see her talking to Jeffery Spender.” She lets Mulder connect the dots on the rest of her thoughts after pointing a finger toward the stables. Mulder’s eyes travel the distance and he sees Scully and Jeffery talking. He waves the thought away, along with Diana’s comment.

“They met Saturday at dinner,” he says, his dismissiveness irritating Diana.

“Yes,” Diana says. “Why is she talking to Spender’s son? Is she talking them out of the deal? Does she know what Spender wants from you?”

“She’s not a spy, Diana,” Mulder asserts, suddenly overcome with a great need to defend or protect Scully, maybe both.

“Fox, I cannot believe how naive you’re being. Your motto is to trust no one. Suddenly You meet this woman out of nowhere, without a care in the world, no caution at all–”

“She’s a working girl,” he blurts out as quietly as he possibly can. Diana, utterly astonished, stops dead in her tracks, her mouth obscurely hanging open. He truly has rendered her speechless.

“I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood you. Or I had a small stroke,” she declares in a sobering tone. Mulder bends his head closer to her and tells her a watered-down version of the entire story.

“Fox,” she practically scolds, once she has some semblance of her wits about her again, “a hooker?! Are you out of your mind?” Mulder shrugs off her questions. Diana turns, clearly unable to continue the conversation with him, and swiftly walks away. Mulder catches a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye.

“Mr. Spender” he calls out, following after the man.

***

Elsewhere on the field, Scully leans against a tree, watching the second match. She’s in awe of the horses: their size, and their ability to work in different situations; sporting events, labor, and camps for kids. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when she feels a presence descending upon her, and she looks to her left to see Diana approaching. She paints on a smile, willing herself to be nice to the woman Mulder works with.

“So, Scully,” Diana spits out, not attempting to cover the disdain in her voice. “Are you enjoying the match?” Scully nods but doesn’t make eye contact, keeping her guard up. Mulder may work with and trust this woman, but Scully doesn’t trust her as far as she can throw her, feeling a very Spender-like vibe.

“Good, good,” Diana acknowledges. She pauses, then adds, “I’m sure you don’t see many polo matches on Hollywood Boulevard.” For a moment, Scully forgets to breathe. She feels like a million tiny needles are breaching the perimeter of her chest. She turns to Diana, eyes wide, and though she doesn’t speak the words, Diana knows exactly the question Scully wants to ask.

“Oh, Fox told me,” she flaunts casually. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she pronounces, then begins to walk away. She turns back and adds, “Oh, and I have many other colleagues who I am sure would love your… business. You know, once Fox goes back to New York.” With that she turns for good, not bothering to look over her shoulder at the damage she caused.

Waldorf Astoria

Penthouse

9:34 pm

Mulder fumbles with the keycard in the door lock. He’s feeling a bit off-balance since leaving the polo match and he knows one reason, but the other evades him. Once he’d caught up with Spender, he’d learned more about the dubious business activities he would be partaking in if going to work for Spender. Diana was right, in a sense. He’s changing. Whether it’s because of Scully or some other reason, he’s unsure, however, the more Spender spoke, the more Mulder began to despise the man. And then there’s Scully. She had appeared to be enjoying herself— at least he thought she was. Silence loomed in the car on the drive home; the usually chatty Scully had nothing to say. Mulder realizes she hasn’t said a word to him since leaving the polo club. He manages to open the door, allowing her entry first.

“Scully?” Mulder asks, hesitantly, cautiously, following her into the foyer. She doesn't turn to look at him, but he pushes forward anyway. “Are you okay?” he asks, facing her after depositing his coat on the bench in the entryway.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she replies curtly. She heads straight for the bathroom, not allowing him a chance to ask follow-up questions, and slams the door at full force once she’s on the other side of it. Very un-Scully-like, as she hasn’t engaged in this type of behavior during the week.

Mulder hesitantly heads in that direction, but before he can do or say anything, the bathroom door flies open and Scully shoots out.

“You know, Mulder, I don’t know why you made me dress up.” She pulls the hat off her head and haphazardly tosses it on a nearby chair.

“I don’t under—”

“If you were going to tell everyone I’m a hooker, why couldn’t I wear my clothes? At least that way I could be prepared for the ammunition coming at me,” she says. Mulder, seeing the utter hurt in her eyes, can only look at the floor. She can’t look at him either, out of anger or hurt she doesn’t know, but she can’t meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” is all Mulder can think of to say, something so simple, yet not. As if he doesn’t already have his foot in his mouth, he continues, “I’m sure Diana meant no harm, I’ve known her for years.” It was the wrong thing to say if her wide blue eyes are any indication. Mulder can practically see the steam coming out of her ears.

“You going to act as my pimp now? Diana can hook me up with all of her people and you can get a cut of the money?” Scully, no longer holding back, is decidedly close to yelling. Mulder looks struck, dumbfounded, and hurt, though he knows not as hurt as Scully is. However, instead of being empathetic, anger takes over him.

“That’s not me, Scully, come on. I thought you had gotten to know me better than that. But I hate to point out the obvious, but you are a hooker. You are my employee. I’m paying you to spend the week with me,” he says, adding the last bit just for spite.

Scully sees red. “It’s my body, Mulder. My choices, my life, my say.”

“I’ve apologized,” he says, as if that statement solves everything, attempting to end the argument. Mulder, someone who is generally in charge of everyone and everything, is always used to having the last word.

“You know, Mulder,” Scully says, a bite still on her tongue, clearly not done with the discussion, “I’ve never had anyone make me feel as low or as cheap as you made me feel today.”

Mulder rolls his eyes at Scully and before he can stop himself replies, “I have a really hard time believing that in your line of work.”

Scully visibly recoils, as though she’s been slapped in the face. She walks out of the room without another word, grabbing her shoes and bag. Mulder catches up to her in the dining area. It dawns on him that she intends to leave, and suddenly he is devoid of air.

“I want my money,” she declares, her words hitting him like ice. Not wanting her to see that he is shaken by her abrupt departure, he takes a stack of bills out of his wallet, throws them carelessly on the table, and retreats like a wounded animal.

Scully stares at the money, disappointed in herself for enjoying her time with him, disappointed in Mulder for, in her eyes, letting her down, and disappointed in how it’s coming to an end. Leaving the money untouched on the table, she turns and quietly makes her way out the door.

Pausing, once in the bedroom, Mulder sadly thinks, this isn’t how it’s supposed to end. He quickly makes his way back to the dining area. Seeing the money on the table but no sign of Scully, he makes haste and heads to the hallway in hopes of stopping her. She’s standing in front of the elevator, staring at her watch while tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. Don’t look at him, she orders herself.

“I’m an asshole,” he affirms in a loud enough voice that she can’t mistake what she heard. She huffs out a diminutive laugh, indicating that she more than agrees with him, though she still can’t meet his eyes.

“I’m a self-absorbed, cocky, pain in the ass, asshole.” He inches nearer to her, cautiously, as though he’s approaching an injured doe, scared it will run. She shifts her head slightly, acknowledging she is listening to him. “I’m used to getting my way with everything. I’ve been told on more than one occasion that my people skills are not always top-notch. Scully, I wasn’t planning on telling anyone and wasn’t prepared to answer questions about us; that was a mistake, I should have been prepared. But I am also a person who generally tells it like it is, and I truly am sorry for hurting you Scully. Dana. I don’t want you to leave, especially like this, he pauses, then dejectedly adds, “Please.” Holding his breath, he waits for her response.

The elevator doors open and Byers stands there, ready to take his next passenger to his or her destination. He looks from Mulder to Scully, waiting with bated breath to see which one, if either, will come aboard. Scully shakes her head carefully, indicating she will not be needing a ride. He lets the doors close and descends. She slowly turns to face Mulder, wiping a tear from her eye.

“You hurt me.” A sentence so simple, yet very impactful. Mulder is silent, having said everything he needed to. “Don’t do it again,” Scully continues, half a command and half a warning.

Mulder holds out a hand, much like an olive branch peace offering. Taking it, they advance together back through the door.

Penthouse

Master Bedroom

10:30 pm

The room is dark, the only sliver of light coming from the moon peeking through the slatted blinds. The sound of nightlife bleeds through the window. The smell of sweat and mingled bodily scents waft through the room. They lay in bed breathing heavily, naked, sated, and facing each other, their heads draped cozily on pillows. Mulder kisses Scully’s nose.

“What’s going on in your head?” he asks curiously. He moves a finger towards some stray hairs on her face and gently tucks them behind her ear.

“I’m enjoying this more than I thought I would,” she replies honestly. Mulder scrunches his eyebrows, and Scully realizes he thinks she means the sex. She lets out a laugh and quickly explains, “This arrangement, not the sex, Mulder, though I am thoroughly enjoying the hell out of that too. But this, the week.”

Mulder nods, understanding. “Tell me something about yourself, Scully.” His hand makes gentle, rhythmic up-and-down motions over her naked side.

“You want the Dana Scully 411?” she asks. Mulder nods, biting his lip, almost afraid that she will refuse him. He doesn’t know why that bothers him, but he suddenly has an intense need to know everything about her. Instead, she lets out a breath and begins her story.

“I’m the third child of four. An older brother and sister, and a younger brother. My father was my first love, my biggest defender, and the person who was the hardest on me in the world. I always wanted to please him, do my best, and live up to his standards. He died when I was sixteen. My oldest brother had already left home and my sister was just about out the door. My younger brother had his stuff going on. My mother tried to hold everything together. I was lost. I was drowning. I tried to make myself as small as possible. I had been a pretty good student up until that point; my dad and I shared a love of learning. He always told me I would be an amazing doctor one day. But when he died, I spiraled. I barely made it through the year and ended up dropping out about six months before I was supposed to graduate. I know I broke my mother’s heart, but I needed to get away. I couldn’t breathe. I hopped around from one friend’s house to another, taking odd jobs at diners or other shops when I could. I lived that way until I was twenty-three. Soon after, my sister, Missy, got in touch and persuaded me to come out here. She had been living here, trying to waitress and maybe make it as an actress. But that didn’t pan out and she ended up trading tricks. She introduced me to this life and I was suddenly making more money than I knew was possible. I had boyfriends now and then. None of them knew what I did. I was always safe, and never put anyone in danger. Looking back on it, I for sure had a pattern; I always went for the older guy, the father figure, one I wanted to please,” she pauses, looking into Mulder’s eyes. “A psychologist would have a field day with me,” she admits honestly.

“We’re not defined by our past, Scully. We’re defined by what we do each day moving forward,” he tells her. Not scolding, not harshly, simply stating a fact.

Scully nods and whispers, “I’ll have to remember that.”

“What’s one thing you wish you could do that you never had the chance to?” he gently asks, after a few minutes of silence. She contemplates this for a bit, thinking back to her childhood.

“Disney,” she settles on after a bit.

“Disney?” he reiterates. He searches her eyes to see if she’s joking, but her face conveys seriousness.

“What? I never got to go as a kid, and then my dad died and my world fell apart. Doesn’t every kid want to go there at some point?” she asks. Observing the look on his face she silently asks him, What?

“Nothing, it’s cute. That was probably the last thing I was expecting.”

“Well, Mulder, I guess I just like to keep you guessing.” She yawns and snuggles closer into his chest, drifting into a peaceful sleep as visions of horses, divots, and Mickey Mouse flow through her head.

#dana scully #fox mulder #the x files fanfic #x files #au fanfiction #msr #first fight #kiss and make up #damn Diana

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fsnowzombie · 5 months

Text

Armored Lady Monday

my ffxiv character Emily going sicko mode in her warrior look

#armored lady monday #emily #warrior #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ff #ff14 #final fantasy 14

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hogansheroestournament · 5 months

Text

The winners from Round 1a!

Klink for the Defense

Crittendon's Commandos

Man in a Box

War Takes a Holiday

Happiness is a Warm Sergeant

The Kommandant Dies at Dawn

Nights in Shining Armor

That's No Lady, That's My Spy

I Look Better in Basic Black

Tanks for the Memory

The Klink Commandos

Praise the Fuhrur and Pass the Ammunition

The Pizza Parlor

The Empty Parachute

Hogan Gives a Birthday Party

How to Catch a Papa Bear

The Informer

The General Swap

The Experts

The Battle of Stalag 13

Fat Hermann, Go Home

Will the Real Adolf Please Stand Up?

The Gold Rush

Klink vs. the Goncluator

Color the Luftwaffe Red

The Prince From the Telephone Company

Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London

German Bridge is Falling Down

A Tiger Hunt in Paris

The Missing Klink

Art for Hogan's Sake

The Softer They Fall

The Big Picture

The Antique

The Crittendon Plan

Monkey Business

Is General Hammerschlag Burning?

A Russian is Coming

These episodes and more will be going up against the rest of the episodes we haven't seen yet in Round 1b starting Monday morning!

#Hogan's Heroes #tumblr bracket #bracket #poll tournament #there are some really hard pairings in round 1b let me tell you

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fimproda · 9 months

Text

I failed at posting a chapter every two weeks – so here's what I wrote 'til now

What it says on the tin.

I usually post a new chapter of Constellations every two Mondays at 5 pm CEST, which is... now, and after five successful updates (if you don't count July 10th, when I was forced to update at like 8 in the evening because of the DDoS attack on AO3), I'm thrilled to announce you that I'm back to my old ways and I can't keep a regular posting schedule for my life.

But I feel magnanimous today, so here's what I wrote until now, and let's hope I can get back to you as soon as possible with the full chapter.

Sooo... enjoy!

6. Phoenix

Cassian almost swallows a mouthful of feathers before Isatis shoves him away.

He sputters, his wings flapping to account for the sudden change of trajectory, and turns around to shoot a dirty look at the colorful parrot that has just raced past him.

Isatis, that white-feathered, golden-armored, High-Lord-mated bastard, just laughs at him. “What, you’ve never had to dodge a bird in your life?” he says, his lips curving in the kind of smirk Cassian has had to beat out of his Illyrian recruits countless times during the centuries. “Don’t tell me you haven’t got those in Illyria.”

“In Illyria, birds dodge us,” Cassian bites back in response. “And besides, there’s nearly not so much air traffic in our lands as there is down here.”

Isatis crosses his arms on his chest. It’s a showoff pose, only taken by someone who wants to flaunt their wing strength when they’re floating thirty feet above the ground―and, if that weren’t enough, the ground is also the top of a hill. “When you’re learning, better to dodge a bird than to fly against the northern wind,” he remarks in such a know-it-all tone, Cassian wants to knock his teeth out of his mouth. “Is that why you’ve all got such weathered faces?”

“Stop bullying him, Isa,” Thesan calls up at them from his spot at the edge of the cliff, closely followed by Nesta shouting, “Keep bullying him, Isa!”

With another shit-eating grin directed at Cassian, Isatis angles his head downwards and asks, “So I’ve got your permission to bully your mate?”

“It’s great entertainment!”

“It’s distracting,” comes the echoing reply of the only other Peregryn in their company, a no-nonsense female who has been Emerie’s physical therapist for the past month and is currently standing on Emerie’s right, checking that there’s nothing wrong with her wings. “I won’t allow your childish bickering to destroy all the good work I’ve done on my patient.”

Azriel, on Emerie’s other side, quips up with, “Come on, Willow, that’s an insult to the actual child here.”

Nyx still chuckles at the comment, stuffing one of his chubby fists in his mouth and smacking his other hand on his mother’s nose.

Feyre just sighs and gives Nyx his pacifier instead, while Rhys, with a last kiss on his mate’s forehead, detaches himself from his wife and son and joins Thesan in his assessment of the situation.

Even from this up high, Cassian can see the wariness in Rhysand’s eyes.

The two High Lords and the High Lady were the first to get here in the morning, working tirelessly for hours to set up wards and alarms in case someone in Illyria got wind of Emerie’s healing and decided to crash her first-flight party. This is also why all the operations related to Emerie’s recovery have been done in either Velaris or the Dawn Court, and why they’ve chosen the Dawn skies to bring her airborne for the first time in literal decades: it’s too soon to make it public, to announce to the entirety of Prythian that the past can be undone and the Illyrian females are always going to land on their feet, no matter the abuse and torture their male family members decide to bestow upon them.

For now, it has to be kept quiet.

The first thing Rhysand had Thesan do after the High Lord of Dawn confirmed that he’d be able to heal Emerie’s wings was sign a non-disclosure agreement, which is now locked in a hidden drawer inside Cassian’s office at the House of Wind, bearing the signatures of everyone who’s involved in this whole thing in some way, shape, or form. Even Moana’s name is on that sheet of paper, given her friendship with Emerie and the fact that she saw Emerie in the early stages of her journey; the Valkyries, instead, have been kept in the dark, also thanks to Emerie’s absence from training ever since her very first visit with Thesan.

(A snickering Rhysand, in all his official garb, had to tell the priestesses gathered in the ring atop the House of Wind that Morrigan wanted Emerie all to herself for a while―a thing which both females strived to make true, if Mor’s endless tales of frequent, toys-assisted, bed-breaking sex were anything to go by).

Alas, the non-disclosure agreement was just the start.

Rarely, if ever, has Cassian had to process so much paperwork in his five centuries of life. Rhys is usually the one who has to deal with all that clerical work, but since Emerie is technically in Cassian’s direct employ and not Rhysand’s, it’s his duty this time around.

Thank the gods, Nesta is more than happy to lend a hand―sometimes both hands, sometimes her mouth―when his own aches from having to hold a pen for hours on end.

He’d much rather hold a sword, and he’d much rather not have to keep as many secrets as he’s keeping now.

The one titled Operation Phoenix, for starters―which Cassian still thinks is lame, but Rhysand looked so proud of it that he didn’t dare to protest―but also the upcoming Phaos Treaty, which is way less lame and actually pretty cool―and with good reason, seeing as it came from Helion, though Cassian has no intention to admit that to his brother’s face.

The past years have taught him that upfront honesty is always the best decision to make when you’re in a safe place to do so. That things would have gone down in an infinitely better way if he’d told Nesta that they were mates right at the start, if Rhys had made Feyre aware of the true risks related to their son’s birth, if Az and Mor had addressed their issues with each other before the five centuries mark. It’s why he not-so-secretly whooped in joy when the three High Lords announced that they’re going to go public with the Phaos Treaty as soon as possible, and that the formal alliance of the three Solar Courts will be broadcasted not only to Prythian, but to all the other Fae and mortal lands outside their little island, as well.

Unfortunately, this also means that they have to prepare to face backlash from the Seasonal Courts at the very least, with Autumn leading the charge; as far as Cassian knows, though, Rhys has already contacted Lucien on the matter, and the latter assured him that he would step into his diplomat’s clothes once again and serve as Night’s liaison with the other courts.

(For some reason, Rhys seemed positive that Lucien would report to Helion, too―and, in an even weirder way, Feyre agreed with his every word. It’s unusual that those two see exactly eye to eye on political issues, and Cassian is left to wonder why. Lucky for them, he has other things on his mind).

This, of course, generates other paperwork.

Right here and now, Cassian determines that, next time he sees Helion, he’s going to ask him to enchant his pen to write in his place. He will have to drink an entire pot of honeyed tea every hour to soothe his throat from dictating the words aloud, but better that than having to stop fingering Nesta because his hand is cramping up.

Cursing, he shakes his hand in the air.

All this thinking about cramping has made it real.

Isatis, asshole that he is, takes note of that and says, “Your lovely mate leaving you high and dry?”

“Sucking me dry, is more like it,” Cassian retorts, and is surprised when the Isatis lets out a genuine laugh. He blinks, taken aback, and then asks him, “What have I done to you that’s making you act like such a prick?”

Isatis raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him. “You think I’m acting like a prick?”

“Why, are you not?”

Isatis raises the other eyebrow. “Trust me, if I were acting like a prick, you would know it.”

“Whatever,” Cassian dismisses him with a scoff.

“I’m not acting like a prick,” Isatis goes on, heedless of Cassian’s comment. “I’m acting territorial.”

Let me know if you have any ideas on what will happen next!

#ao3 #nessian #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #read on ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #writeblr #cassian acotar #nesta x cassian #nesta acotar #nesta archeron #nessian fanfiction

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latveriansnailmail · 2 years

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Amazing Tales: Characters

Been a moment because life keeps happening but all the players in my Amazing Tales game have made their characters and are now ready for preludes or a first session, whichever I have an opportunity for first. They are

Player 1, youngest neighbor kid, age 7: Character is Zoey, Daughter of God. A ten-year-old demigod who was kicked out of Heaven by invading demons. She's a genius machinist and pilot who made a little cyborg sidekick out of her human mother's brain and heart.

Player 2, older neighbor kid, age 10: Character is Lady Emily, an elvin knight in shining armor with a vorpal sword. She has been tasked by the King with finding the missing princess, and she has tasked herself with finding her father's killer.

Player 3, my kid, age 16: Character is Demonyx, Duchess of Hell, who opposes the invasion of Heaven and is seeking shelter on Earth. She can summon monsters, mesmerize mortals, and is pretty much unkillable owing to her mix of demon and phoenix blood.

Player 4, my partner, who has celebrated many happy returns of her 29th birthday: Wanting to run with a bit instead of bothering with the legwork of creating an original character, my partner is playing Garfield the Deals Warlock, proprietor of Fantasy Costco. The twist is, this time it's literally Garfield the Cat. Garfield can teleport himself as well as relocate the entire Costco from township to township. Loyal to the bottom line. Hates Mondays.

Player 5, @tydokia mother of the neighbor girls, age nunya: Character is Brigid Rumthistle, a hobbit who left her hometown with her lover only to be left behind at an inn. She has become aware she has the gift of magical cooking and has awakened to the innkeeper's exploitation of that gift. She plans to rip him off and use her blades, stealth, and luck to find her fortune.

I have managed to cobble together a cohesive story out of all this and will report back after play.

#Amazing Tales

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nyotasaimiri · 2 years

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Arc Two (redux) 00

((Thus begins Kae reposting Arc Two! I’ll take it slow enough to not exhaust myself this time, so don’t expect things to be spectacularly regular after I get to the end of existing content, but hopefully I’ll get back into the groove like this! After today, I’ll be aiming at Mondays and Fridays at 10am EST, and all reposted chapters will be labeled #repost))

“Give me the rundown again, Lumen. Has anything changed from your last report?” Her hands still felt clumsy and weak as they twisted her grey mane into a thick braid. How long had it been? Too long, not long enough…The line between was so fine.

Lumen tilted his head respectfully and offered her a hair tie. “Ain’t much else to tell, ma’am. Fern-fangs and our firebrand have been running bounties while ya’ve been restin’. I keep thinkin’ it ain’t wise, sendin’ our two rascals out together, but somehow they keep comin’ home safe between all the jinkin’ high and crackin’ wise. Brings in a tidy reward an’ cleans up this patch of the universe, one scoundrel at a time.” His glow brightened. “Makes ol’ Esther mighty happy, too, ‘cause it tells folks yer Protectorate ain’t done yet.”

“Our Protectorate, Lumen,” she reminded him. “You’re part of it too.”

A few sparks flickered across his brand as he laughed. “Darn right. I keep forgettin’… it feels strange, actually belongin’ to somethin’. But it ain’t a bad strange, not by a long shot.”

She laughed. “Think you could get used to it?”

Lumen flickered into the novakid equivalent of a warm smile. “I already am.”

Nyota stood up and crossed to the rack where her armor waited for her. It was lighter than she remembered; that was a good sign. After three months, she had expected it to be heavy. “So how have you and Oldarva been?” she asked as she slid the greaves on. “I notice she’s been spending a lot more time with you and Namina, when he’s here.”

His sudden hot, bright blush sent spots across her sight. “Eh, well, uh… we’re doin’ fine,” he said, voice almost distorted by a faint hum. “She’s learnin’ mighty quick with the doctorin’. Half that’s thanks to ya, of course, bein’ such a good patient.” He sparked, teasing. “And Ferny’s pickin’ up here and there too. Always brings me back supplies for makin’ medicine and the like.”

“Good,” she replied with a grin, “but you know that’s not what I’m asking.”

He hummed again, and his blush told her all she needed to know. His hands were hot but gentle as he helped her fasten the chestpiece on. Nyota’s hand lingered a moment over her own heart, above the white scar that would never fade.

“Arrowmail and Arjun have been helpin’ out the old lady,” Lumen continued as he followed her out into the corridor. “Sonny tags along with them whenever she ain’t out scoutin’ with Hadley. Esther tells me she’s been a big help with decipherin’ them runes on the Ark. She ain’t great with language like Eldie is, but she sure has the knack for findin’ more carvin’s and the like. Sounds like they’re mighty close to uncoverin’ more secrets.”

“Really? …hopefully none too dangerous.” Her boots clicked against the ship’s polished floor and she resisted the urge to check her reflection in one of the windows. It still felt a little strange, not having tired circles under her eyes or the flower in her hair.

Lumen darkened and nodded. All of them remembered all too well what had happened when the Ark opened. “Shouldn’t be as bad as that, ma’am,” he said with a reassuring pat to her arm. “And it’ll go much better now that yer up and about. Ya can go with them and make sure of it.”

“That I can,” she agreed. Her long strides slowed. There were people in the room at the end of the corridor. Familiar people. “Lumen,” she asked slowly, “is there something you forgot to tell me?”

Lumen laughed, his glow as bright as a sunset. “Ah right. Ya got visitors,” he said, then caught her arm again. “Hold on. Got somethin’ for ya.”

She stopped and obediently lowered her head as he stretched to reach her. Something whispered against her hair and she reached up, puzzled, to feel silk under her fingertips.

“It’s from Eldie,” Lumen said as he stepped back and tucked his hands into his vest pockets. “Ya don’t quite look yerself without it.”

She couldn’t resist checking this time, and smiled as she saw a simple, beautiful silk flower tucked in above her left ear. “It’s perfect. Thank you. And thank her for me.”

Lumen flicked her a salute. “Sure thing. Now ya best get in there. They’ve been waitin’.”

Her entrance was greeted by a happy “Sis!” from one of her guests, a young male Apex with hair untouched by grey and warm amber eyes. The other guest, only slightly shorter than him and as effortlessly elegant as ever in her green jacket and crimson scarf, inclined her head and offered a slight smile.

“Welcome back, Nyota Saimiri.”

#arc two #repost

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