#but anyway aside from that load of goodies i think it turned out nice for a first try for this kind of shading

[keeps-ache]

,-,

#art #my art #artists on tumblr #digital art #oc #pink space #i'm just #okay so just a couple things! #new computer + medibang setup so i don't know how to make the image transparent yet (ouch. my soul) #when i do though i might post the transparent one idk. that was how it was supposed to be shown but oh wells lol #also the. shading uhhhhh #i feel like i did way too much this is embarrassing and i dunno why ;u; #also i'm still banging my head into an imaginary wall over forgetting the shirt collar but WHATEVER #i wanted to put a bunch of story-related things around him but No. I Am Tired #maybe one day............... #also while working on this my Brayn kept saying 'yo. yo. Jungle Juice' #shut the up Brayn please for once oh my gosh #ignore how i forgot to change some opacity #but anyway aside from that load of goodies i think it turned out nice for a first try for this kind of shading #this was fun! should do it more often..... #okay #gonna try to go to sleep now :) #[hey. Hey. i see you. you know what time it is. go to bed. >:| ] #or if you're reading this in the day time. please run a quick diagnostic check on yourself thanks #okay going now. goinggg #gooooing #going... #yep........ #mmmmmhm................................................................ #okay nighty :)

[sneyrwrites]

|| Homesick || Kuroo Tetsurou X Reader

✘ Wordcount: 4,5k

✘ Genre: Angst, fluff. smut 

✘ Warnings: NSFW

Author Note: What is it about my need to write angst lately? Anyway, Enjoy! (criticism is always welcome)

This started out as a 500 words drabble, but it got out of hand.

Kuroo had no idea how he would get through this fucking course without breaking down at some point. The worksheets and load of work he had to pull through would get him a few early gray hairs, his psyche suffering tremendously, but oh well... that’s what college was about. 

 The only thing he looked forward to was getting home, where you were probably waiting for him with a warm smile and a heart-melting “welcome”. Those were the time where he could feel all of his stress and negativity dissipate into thin air.

The sound of the lock opening brought a flutter in his stomach, him already anticipating the sweet relief of finding you there upon opening the door.

The cold and dark room was the only thing to receive him.

Oh, right... you were not there anymore.

You had left a long time now, exhausted by his constant neglect. Could he blame you though? Of course not.

If he was honest, in fact, he wouldn’t have put up with his sorry ass for half of the time you did. But seeing the empty shoe rack by the door, and the hangers stripped from that hideous scarf you insisted on wearing, he could not fight the tears that threatened to fall. What was he supposed to do now?

 The click of the switch brought light into his house, which he no longer called home. Kuroo ran a hand through his messier than usual hair, and sighing heavily he left his bag on the floor, not caring about his spilled books.

He didn’t feel like doing his project anymore, and talking to your mutual friends would only bring him more despair, as Bokuto seemed to only know how to talk about you.

The creaking of the mattress when he heavily fell on it used to bring him joy, because it was often accompanied by your soft giggle, followed by the usual “Tough day, huh?”

You had no idea.

You had no idea just how tough his days had been since you left, depriving his apartment from the spark it used to have.

It was unfair for him to feel this sour about the situation. Break-ups sucked, and he had every right to feel hurt about it, but he recognized his actions had lead to the outcome. You tear-streaked face would hunt him for eternity.

“I can’t handle this anymore Kuroo...” Your whispered words, so tiny and fragile, but so powerful at the same time, breaking his heart in a million pieces.

The words died in his mouth, so he just steeped aside, letting you go without even trying to make you stay.

All the I love you’s and promises he never got to make, all the late night snacks and pillow talks you would never share.

Now they were nothing but a wish, an illusion that dissipated into thin air.

The first week you were gone, he was resentful and shady over social media, like he was only a teenager who’s crush rejected. But, as Kenma had put it in simple words. He was just a sore loser.

You had tried your best, but the fights started to rise, In volume, in frequency, in anger. And they were about the stupidest things ever, like him not feeling like getting up on his sparse free moments to go out with you, him refusing to eat with you at the table. Once you were gone, he regretted letting all of his frustration and stress out on you.

Half of his helplessness came from a selfish place if he really thought about it. You were his mini vacation, his heaven on earth, and he had destroyed it, even noticing his mistake until it was too late and the sheets were cold, just like the half-finished cup of tea you had left at the counter, and he still didn’t have the courage to put away.

Akaashi’s couch was soft and comfortable, hugging your body as if it was a cloud.

But it wasn’t Kuroo’s bed. The warmth the boy irradiated as he sleeps was missing. The way he would sometimes mumble nonsense or when his hand would reach for yours in the middle of the night, simply because.

Those were the things you missed the most. At those times at night you couldn’t help but think. Were you over reacting?

You knew he was stressed about school, maybe you shouldn’t have been as harsh, but thinking about letting him go over you like if you were nothing but the shoe mat in the front door, made a bitter taste settle in the back of your mouth and a resentment you never wanted to have towards him bloom.

If you didn’t walk away when you did you would have ended up hating him, or hating him in the tough moments at least, because when everything was going good, Kuroo made you feel like you were floating, and oh so loved.

But he tended to lock himself inside his head, submerging in a spiral of unhealthy habits of insomnia and a full gallon of caffeine to keep going. Shutting you out completely, brushing your attempts at spend time with him off.

Sighing, you rolled on the couch by the tenth time that hour, restless and sad. Akaashi’s apartment was pitch black. The only thing cutting through all the blackness was your phone, displaying a picture of you and Kuroo, smiling at the museum, in front of a painting of Marie Curie. That one was taken in summer vacations, when he still hadn’t started his courses and could spend some time with you while being awake.

Maybe it was unfair of you to disappear from his life out of nowhere, just picking everything up and running to hide behind your friend, not able to confront Kuroo and see his reaction at your abandonment for more than ten seconds.

You turned again, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders slipping to your waist. You didn’t even bother to readjust it.

“You know, I Can hear your sorrow all the way from my room.” Akaashi’s voice startled you, Looking up you noticed his silhouette in the living room entrance. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms and started towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make tea.”

Two heartbeats later, a steaming cup was in your hands, your friend sitting next to you, sipping his green tea in silence.

“Okay...” He said once he finished the cup, leaving it in the table. His voice calm and collected. “What is it? You obviously need to talk.” You kept silence, focusing on the pale color of your drink. It didn’t taste like Kuroo’s tea at all. This one was missing something... You sipped again, still unsure about speaking up about what was bothering you.

“ I know it’s about Kuroo, and I know you need help to figure your feeling out... But understand I Can’t help you if you don’t speak to me... I’ve been patient for the two weeks and a half you’ve been crashing in my couch.” He turned to you, resting his elbow in the back of it, his face supported by his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, i love having you here and all. But it’s obvious you don’t. Judging by the way you’re stabbing daggers at the tea...”

“Sorry, I just...” You didn’t know what to say. That you missed Tetsuro’s bed or his tea? That you could not get the way he sings in the shower to cheesy 80’s songs out of your head? Or the way your hand always felt empty without his in it? “I miss him...” That seemed to sum it up pretty well.

“I thought you couldn’t handle the relationship anymore...” He prompted

You shook your head, setting your still full cup in the table.

“I couldn’t... but I don’t know” You were bad at communicating, maybe that was one of the reasons you chose to escape rather than talk.

“Do you think you could have handle things different with him when it started getting rough?” Akaashi’s words were intense, just like the look he was giving you, his clever gaze analyzing up every single reaction you made.

Yeah, in fact, you thought about that.

Maybe that was why you were so restless, the guilt o knowing you could have done more for the two of you, but choose to do nothing weighted on your conscious

“You know, if you want to go back with him, that doesn’t make you any less strong (Y/N)... Sometimes we just don’t handle our emotions in the right way. And it seems to me that the both of you made a few mistakes... Maybe you should talk to Kuroo. Who knows? This time it could go better...” Akaashi got up and went to his room, throwing a “Try to rest” Over his shoulder.

What were you going to do? The shame of your actions overshadowed all logic and reason.

What if Kuroo told you to fuck off? He could hate you for all you knew.

You hadn’t made up your mind the next morning, still teetering on the edge to throwing your pride to the garbage and just beg him to take you back or just leave everything as it was. Time cured everything, right?

Coincidentally with this debate you were having between logic and feelings, your college sent you an email regarding a few missing papers you needed to hand over in the office. Bad -or good-thing was, you left that folder at Kuroo’s place thinking you wouldn’t need it anymore.

Seems like you would have to see him, you wanted it or not.

Three knocks on his door woke Kuroo up that Saturday morning.

He considered the possibility of just not getting up, too tired by his restless nights to function properly, but by the time whoever was outside the door knocked again he was walking to the door, throwing a random hoodie that was lying around his naked torso to look somewhat presentable. He didn’t want to look like a perv in case it was his landlady, a sweet grandma that was always nice and used to bring you cookies from time to time. Kuroo remembered tenderly those times where the lady and you would spend hours in the corridor sharing recipes and exchanging goodies.

He missed those days.

Kuroo opened the door and froze in the middle of zipping the hoodie up.

Was he dreaming? It wouldn’t be the first time, Those weeks without you were a torture, and your memories usually haunted his dreams, you in the arms of someone else were a popular theme in his subconscious.

And now, you were there, right in front of him, close enough to extend his hand and brush the skin on your cheek. He was dumbfounded, not able to emit a word.

He thought you were no longer going to speak to him, sending Akaashi or Bokuto to pick up the remainder of your stuff.

“Um... Hi” You hesitated, trying to look at anything but his exposed mid drift, but failing completely. “Sorry to bother, but I forgot a few important papers the last time I was here.” you tried to say as nonchalantly as possible

“Oh... “ He said, stepping aside, letting you into the apartment you used to share. “Sure... Do you remember where it was?”

You took a step in and the rush of longing took you by surprised.

You missed that tiny and uncomfortable couch so much, and the horrible square pattern blanked Kuroo bought ant kept in the chair next to it. The curtains that would slap you in the face if the windows behind the sofa was open, everything there felt like home, and you knew you were the one to go away in the first place, but still.

Akaashi was right, you didn’t even try to talk to him before running away, too traumatized by past experiences to even try to make it work. Th tears choked you and threaten to fall.

It was too late. Asking to try again would be so selfish, after the mess you caused yourself.

“(Y/N)?” Tetsurō‘s gentle tone broke you out of your trance.

“Huh? Oh yeah, It’s probably in the bedroom...” Was it even appropriate for you to go inside his bedroom still? Kuroo must’ve noticed your hesitation because he signal with his hand for you to go first.. The flash of sadness in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you.

Everything was just as you left it inside the room. The same glass of water on the nightstand, your drawers only halfway closed cause you were in a rush when you left, afraid that you back out of your dumb and rushed plan to break up with him all of the sudden, thinking that way would be better, just like ripping a band-aid.

In the bookcase against the wall you spotted the red folder you came looking for. Once it was in your grasp, you really didn’t have an excuse to delay your exit from Kuroo’s house... that used to be your home, and that you wanted so bad to call it home once again.

Turning back to him, who was standing at the door you hugged the folder to your chest.

“So... this was it. Thank u Tets...” You noticed your mistake and tried to correct it “Kuroo... I better leave now.” You advanced towards the door, but his sulked figure blocked the way. “Kuroo?”

You looked up at him, and the tears in his hazel orbs stunned you. His lips trembled slightly and with a frustrated groan he rubbed his eyes harshly.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, keeping them covered. A broken sigh shaking his shoulders, “I hate this... I hate it so much...”

Your heart clenched, and you regretted not sending Akaashi in your place. He obviously wasn’t okay with you there.

“Oh um... Sorry, I’ll just leave now.” You attempted to sidestep him to get out of the room, but in heart beat his long arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest.

The sobs of the boy you loved made his chest vibrate under your skin, and the pain he was feeling you could feel it too. You didn0t hesitate, and as if it was a second nature to you, you squeezed him harder, kissing the soft bare skin of his chest, as you felt your chest collapse into itself.

Could someone die from sadness and love at the same time? Because that was how you were feeling.

“I’m sorry... I know it’s too late and all... But I really am sorry...” He started, his words coming out strangled by the tears, but you shushed him as the tears slipped over your cheeks, leaving wet trails on them.

“Shh... I’m sorry too.” You chocked on a I love that you refused to let slip past your lips. He could be trying to move on, and this was just a minor setback, you would not be that selfish and just throw your feeling into him.

Still presses against his body, you sighed

You missed so badly the feeling of his arms around you, and the way your body fit into his in all the right places, his hands burying themselves in your hair as he brought you closer to him.

Kuroo Tetsurō was your home. The home you lost the key to, locking yourself out of it in a careless action.

“(Y/N)?... I’m sorry...” You opened your mouth to say it was okay when he spoke again. “I love you so much... and I’m so sorry I pushed you away...” The air was sucker punched out of your lungs. And now it was your body, the one being rocked by uncontrollable sobs.

You loved him too, but were too busy weeping to respond to his declaration.

Kuroo held you in his arms, while the both of you cried.

It was almost therapeutic, finally being able to apologize about his mistakes.

Something muffled came out of your mouth and he didn’t catch it, since the got lost against his skin, your warm breath tickling him.

“What baby?” He asked, and wanted to kick himself for it. He was not respecting your decision of separating with his actions and words, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming waves of emotions that watched over him.

“I want to come back home...” Kuroo stayed silent, processing what you just said. “I’m sorry for not trying to make us work Tetsu... But I miss you like crazy, and I was scared and I don’t know what I was thinking... I’m just so sorry...”

His response was simple. He hugged you closer, picking you up like he had done so many times in that same room.

He sat at the end of the bed, with you sitting on his lap, your head tucked in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your scalp.

Once the sobs retreated, you lifted your head and looked at him in the eyes. Your eyelashes were shimmering with the remaining wetness the tears left behind, your nose was red as well as your cheeks.

Your eyes scanned his face and Kuroo held his breath when you leaned in, your lips softly brushing his, almost as if you feared rejection.

He could never say no to you.

He applied a little more pressure and he finally tasted your lips again. God, how he missed the feeling of your lips against his. Your breath tickled his mouth each time you pulled away to take a breath in between kisses.

Kuroo’s hands went to your back as the kiss rose in intensity. Your hands grabbed his shoulders, your fingers pressing his arm.

Kuroo could feel his erection grow, pressing against his gym shorts, and he was sure you could feel it too by the way your face was getting hotter to the touch.

You readjusted on top of him, your hips straddling his, and the friction from the movement tore a moan from his throat. Embarrassed, he tried to kiss you again to hide his blush, but you pulled away and looked him dead serious in the eyes. He started to feel nervous and was about to apologize, when all of the sudden you moved again, grinding against him. He let out another whiny moan and an entertained glint flashed across your eyes.

Your fingers found the zipper of the hoodie, and the cold skin of your knuckles brushing him as you undid it, exposing his abs. You admired them for a second before kissing him again, breathing in his scent. Slipping the hoodie from his shoulders, a shiver traveled his spine when your fingers brushed the sensitive spot in his clavicle. And an amused smile twitched in the corner of your lips, as you brought your face down to meet your lips with his skin.

Your scorching mouth against his neck made his head spin, and when your teeth made an appearence, he could not help the clench of his stomach, the nibbles you left on his skin sending a tingling to his toes. He sucked in a sharp breath when to licked behind his ear all of the sudden, and the low chuckle on his ear snapped him out of the daze you had him in.

Grabbing your hip and back, he pressed you harder against him, and a gasp left your lips. Smiling smugly, he flipped both of you over.

Kuroo smile above you, as he teasingly trailed his fingers against your sides, until he came to a stop on the edges of your pants, looking at you once again to confirm you were still okay.

Your smirk was the only confirmation he needed.

He unbuttoned your jeans and he took them off, throwing the garment  somewhere behind him. His mouth came down to your lips once again as his hand slipped inside your underwear that was a dripping mess because of him.

Pride swelled his chest at the thought he was the one making you feel like this, craving his touch just as much as he craved yours.

When his fingers brushed your clit, a strangled moan came out of you, and oh how much he missed the sounds you made when he touched you like that.

He kissed you like there was no tomorrow, his mouth claiming yours, teeth pulling your lips and soft words whispered into them as his finger kept stimulating you, a fog settling over your mind.

“I love you so fucking much...” His mouth went to your chin, and kept going down, trailing your skin, an electric shock struck you from head to toe when he kissed that one spot in your hip he knew drove you crazy. “So fucking beautiful...” He praised.

He kept going down, his lips ghosting over your inner thighs and his breath brushing over your cunt and making you whine out his name.

“Kuroo...” You said. Your hand digging into his hair as your eyes flutter closed.

“What is it, baby?” He asked, and you could even hear the mock in his tone. You were going to respond, when his teeth nibbled the sensitive skin, careful not to hurt you.

Pulling aside your underwear, his mouth found your pulsating sex. And a shock wave of ecstasy filled your body. It didn’t take too long for him to have you at the edge, your toes curling and your hand clutching his hair. Heaving breaths rose your chest and with one last flick of Kuroo’s tongue an orgasm hit you full force, his name coming out of your lips.

“Tetsu...” A series of spasms rocked your body, and your legs clenching around his head, and Kuroo Chuckled at your reaction, amazed at the intensity of your pleasure.

Once you came out of your high, Kuroo settled next to you in bed, his erection still present and bothering him a little, but he was content with making you feel good. He needed nothing else. He could take care of his arousal later.

Rolling over you sat on top of him, leaning down you kissed his neck as you dragged your hands down his abs, feeling the smooth muscles underneath your fingertips, and you noticed just how much you had missed the intimacy you both shared. Your hands kept traveling until you found the elastic of his pants and pulled them down, brushing his swelling member as you pulled the garment down, stripping Kuroo of his last garment.

With his pants out of the way, you could feel the heat from his cock against your wet pussy. He helped you take out your shirt and kissed the exposed skin in between your breasts.

You rubbed on him once more, and the friction ignited the fire in your stomach. You circled Kuroo’s neck with your arms, and leaned you damped forehead on his chest, soft moans coming out of your mouth.

Lifting your hips slightly you aligned Kuroo’s dick with your entrance and in one swift motion you were filled to the rim with him.

“Shit (Y/n)!” He threw his head back, fingers digging at your hips, as you slowly adjusted to him. “God, I love you so much, I love you so fucking much baby...” Kuroo hissed. Kissing your temple, he then guided your hips up and down, feeling every inch of you tightening around him.

Your moans were shushed by his mouth, while your hips kept moving, feeling the way his member pushed at your walls, tightening the knot in the pit of your stomach.

Switching up the pace, Kuroo sat up and picked you up. Laying you on your back you admire the sight of him, his smooth skin and tall frame, his muscular legs and abs, his gentle hands, and his eyes that were so full of love.

You turned around, lifting your ass up and inviting him in. An almost animalistic growl left his throat at the sight.

“Please Tetsu...” You looked at him, with your eyes full of lust and a glint of mischief  in them. “I want you inside of me”

In less than a heartbeat he was inside of you once more, his hips colliding mercilessly with your ass, the lewd sounds of skin against skin mixed with the whimpers that involuntarily came out of your throat as he pounded your pussy like he wanted to.

“Fuck, I missed so much being inside of you.” He grunted, biting his lip.

Kuroo picked up his pace, and you reached for his hand. Intertwining your fingers, he kissed your knuckles, leaning to bite your neck playfully right after.

You could almost feel his abdomen twitching with the need to release his load inside of you. Your chest was flushed against the bed, as Kuroo’s rhythmic movements hit every right spot.

“Tetsu...” You whispered. “Please cum inside of me... I need you.” You begged, aching to be filled by him once more. Your words caused something on him, as if you had stepped on the gas .

The thrust of his hips got more intense and fast, hammering your pussy like it was the sole purpose of his existence. Your thoughts were jumbled and the only coherent thing on your mind was his name, so that all you said.

“Fuck” He moaned, his erratic pace almost matching the beating of your heart. “Oh god baby.... shit.”

With two last powerful you felt him filling you with his cum, releasing three weeks of frustration and desire.

Kuroo tried to pull out of you, but you prevented it, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to rest on top of you, his bare and sweat covered chest against your back.

A content sigh left his lips and he kissed your shoulder, and your heart could have exploded right then and there.

“So... Now what?” He said, asking the question you were too afraid to voice.

You didn’t know how to precede. Did he wanted to try again? Or was this only a fling of the moment and nothing more?

“Hey.” He called your attention, shifting slightly so he could be lying half of his body on the mattress. You turned your head to him and came nose to nose with him. Kuroo placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “Quit over-thinking and be honest... I won’t get mad if this is really over and you regret this thing we just shared.” His face showed a vulnerability uncharacteristic of him and your heart clenched.

“What do you want?” You turned the question around, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

Without hesitation in his voice or in his eyes, he answered

“You.” He pecked your lips, pressing your foreheads together. You observed his beautiful eyes as he reassured you. “That’s all I ever wanted... You’re my home (Y/n), this house feels empty without you... My life feels empty if you’re not sharing it with me. So... what do you say baby, do you want to give us another chance?” He asked.

“I’m happy to be home Tetsu...”

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu! x reader #Haikyuu xreader #Haikyuu!! reader insert #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsuro fluff

[mikauzoran]

Lila Fake-Dating/Emotional Blackmail Adrienette: Betting Against the House: Chapter Four

Read it on AO3: Betting Against the House: Chapter Four: The Worst Date Ever

“…So…” Lila finally spoke up on their short stroll to Assa Café just down the street from the school. “Nino’s going to fail Physics?” she carefully sounded him out, trying to determine if Nino’s excuse to pull Adrien aside held water.

Adrien made a thoughtful noise. “Maybe not fail outright, but he’s certainly not going to do well.” He cast her a sidelong glance and then pretended to come clean. “The Physics project isn’t actually what Nino and I talked about.”

Her grip on his arm tightened until it was almost painful. “Oh? Then what did you two talk about? Surely you’re not spreading slander about me.”

Adrien scoffed. “Lila, do you think I’d risk Marinette’s safety like that?”

It wasn’t a lie. He was simply leaving it up to her to decide what the truth was.

She seemed to come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t play around when it came to protecting Marinette because her hold on his arm started to loosen.

“Besides,” he sighed, “what would be the point of telling anyone? It’s not like they’d believe me. You’ve got the wool pulled too far down over their eyes.”

Lila hummed softly as she contemplated the merits of his statements.

“Nino’s planning a surprise for Alya,” Adrien volunteered to throw her off the scent. “He’s been consulting me because I’m a hopeless romantic and good at giving gifts and orchestrating surprises.”

“Is that so?” Lila chuckled, a sly grin beginning to form at the corners of her lips. “Prove it. I expect a romantic gift from you promptly.”

Adrien shrugged, pretending that it was of no consequence.

On the inside, he heaved an enormous sigh of relief because it appeared that he had outfoxed her and that she believed he hadn’t said anything to Nino about the blackmail.

“Anything for you, Ma Fleur,” he replied obediently.

 They arrived at the café—small and intimate with counter service and only a few seats—a couple minutes later.

Lila did not look impressed as she glanced over the menu. “I guess I could get one of their detox juices. What do you usually get here?”

“Typically, I order the salmon or tofu bentou,” he informed, getting out his wallet. “Their ingredients are really fresh, and the chef is fantastic, so you can’t actually go wrong.”

“The lunchboxes do look good,” she granted reservedly, not wanting to appear too excited. “But rice has so many carbs.”

“So just eat the meat and the vegetables,” Adrien suggested with a shrug. “It’s not like you have to eat everything.”

She pursed her lips, debating. “Which is better: the miso pork or the teriyaki chicken?”

“I don’t know, actually,” he sheepishly admitted. “I’ve never had them. I’m a pescatarian.”

She stood there for almost twenty full seconds gawking at him. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m pretty sure I am,” he snorted lightly, not appreciating her dictating tone. “And I think I would be the best person to ask about my eating habits.”

“I’ve seen you eat chicken before,” she accused, acting like this was some kind of personal betrayal. “I saw you when your father invited me over to dine with you.”

“I’ll eat it if it’s put in front of me,” he confessed, “but, when I have any say about what I eat, I’m pescatarian, so I’ve never ordered the miso pork or the teriyaki chicken here.”

She blew out an indignant little huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”

Adrien physically bit his tongue to hold in a snarky response.

“…I guess I’ll get the miso pork,” she eventually decided. “Evian to drink and a matcha tiramisu. It really did sound good when I heard you talking to Elise about it the other day.”

“Perfect. Sounds good.” He gave a nod of approval as he moved down the counter to the register to pay.

“I’m going to take a seat,” she apprised, turning in a way so that her hair whipped around behind her sharply.

Seating was extremely limited—a bench seat along the wall opposite the counter and a handful of tables with individual chairs on the other side—and the restaurant was very small, so Lila didn’t have far to go. She could hear Adrien exchanging pleasantries with the cashier, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying because they were holding their conversation in Japanese.

This irritated her for a reason she couldn’t quite pinpoint, and it only got more intense as the cashier laughed and smiled at something Adrien had said.

Lila took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm as she watched Adrien finish at the counter and bring over their trays.

She hated his charm, his irresistibility, his boyish handsomeness, and the way he was so nice to everyone who wasn’t her.

 Conversation was sparse as they consumed their food.

They’d never really talked in the years that they’d known one another. Adrien was civil and polite but didn’t make an effort to initiate chitchat, and Lila hadn’t bothered to get to know him either.

He was just a pretty face and a bleeding heart whom she was more than willing to use and step on in order to climb her way up. Besides, she was more than half certain that he hated her, despite his “moral high ground”, “patience of a saint” act. She had never seen the point in truly getting to know him. It wasn’t like he really cared about getting to know her, despite his pretended amicability.

“You’re acting awfully sullen,” she observed when five minutes passed without either saying anything to the other.

He shrugged.

He did that a lot, and it annoyed her. It was like he couldn’t be bothered to give her a proper answer. She didn’t like him dismissing her like that.

“You should smile,” she advised. “The point of this date is for you to make a show of how in love you are with me and how happy we are together. I’m dating you for the media exposure, so stop sulking and look like you’re excited to be with me or something.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled darkly. “It’s a little difficult to act cheerful when you’re upset.”

“What do you have to be upset about?” she challenged.

He eyed her with a dangerously bland look, cocking an eyebrow as if daring her to say it again. “You took something important from me, Lila,” he explained flatly. “My father is a little stingy with my schedule, so I had to plan tonight’s game night with my friends almost a month in advance, but, now, here I am wasting an evening with you. I was looking forward to game night, but you ruined that for me, so, yeah. I think most people would say I had something to be upset about.”

She gave a little snort and tossed her head. “Well, be upset later. Right now, you’re on the clock, so make a good show of being in love with me.”

He sighed, closing his eyes and taking a couple deep breaths to defuse his temper. When he opened them, he smiled brightly, looking for all the world like he was enjoying their outing. “Is this better?”

“Perfect.” She decreed, satisfied…until he reached across the table and stole a bite of her matcha tiramisu. “Hey! Thief! I didn’t say you could have any!” she squawked in protest.

He smirked at her around his spoon. “Sorry, Ma Fleur. I didn’t think you’d mind. I mean…don’t you love me enough to share?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Come on,” he teasingly whispered. “If I have to put on an act, so do you. No one’s going to believe I love someone who bosses me around and treats me like garbage. You have to at least pretend to be worthy of love; otherwise, everyone’s going to see through this sham.”

Her lip curled back into a scowl as she hissed, “I don’t know, Adrien. You seem to love your father, even though he treats you like dirt. Maybe people will just assume you’re a masochist.”

Adrien recoiled, the fake smile dropping clear off his face. He gazed at Lila with contempt but didn’t voice a response.

Her sneer phased into a discontented frown. “You’re going to have to do better at this fake dating thing in the future when we’re in public; otherwise, Marinette might find that there are some unfortunate rumors circulating about her.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “There are literally two or three other people in this restaurant right now, and they’re all around back. No one’s watching our shameful little display, and I did just fine all day at school. Back off, Lila.”

It was a gamble confronting her like that, but, for once, it payed off.

Lila shrugged and sat back in her seat, returning to her dessert disinterestedly. “You did do well at school today. …Make sure you keep up the good work, and maybe we won’t have a problem.”

Adrien nodded, scooping up some rice with his chopsticks and bringing it up to his mouth to keep himself busy so that he wouldn’t press her any further and accidentally push her over the edge.

Things were quiet again for a stretch, each of them lost in their own reverie.

Several minutes later, Lila spoke in a soft, defensive voice, asking out of seemingly nowhere, “What do you like about Marinette so much, anyway?”

Adrien looked up and blinked at her in surprise, unsure if she had actually said anything and whether he had heard her right.

She arched an eyebrow at him challengingly. “Well? What do you like about her?”

Normally, this would be the point where Adrien went off on a bullet-pointed lecture about how amazing and wonderful Marinette was, but, always wary of Lila, he reined in his kneejerk response and formulated a more reserved reply.

“Her selflessness, mostly,” he confessed, cautiously elaborating. “She’s kind, even when she doesn’t have to be, and she’s always willing to take on more work on top of her already overwhelming load in order to help a friend. She’s just a good person like that. She doesn’t do it to get anything out of it…she’s just good,” he finished with a shrug.

Lila snorted, casting her eyes back down at her tiramisu. “Figures you’d go for that goody-goody martyr act. You’re so gullible.”

“…May I ask what you hate about her so much?” Adrien inquired, attempting to foster a genuine conversation.

If he could figure out what made Lila tick, maybe he could come up with a way to gain the upper hand and declaw her. He knew from studying history that some people really were just evil, but he couldn’t help but think that there was some reason why Lila acted the way she did. If he could figure her out, maybe she wouldn’t turn out to be such a lost cause after all.

Lila tossed her head, heat rising on the back of her neck and staining the tips of her ears crimson. “What I hate most is that everyone loves her so much,” she spat with venom. “She doesn’t even have to try, and everybody loves her. She’s so obnoxious with her ‘holier than thou’ attitude. She acts like she’s better than me, but she’s not, and she doesn’t deserve everybody fawning over her all the time.”

Adrien nodded, taking a long sip of his houjicha.

She was jealous, no different than Chloé. The only difference was how Lila went about expressing her jealousy.

Chloé was just a brat and a bully. (He meant that in the nicest, most loving way possible because Chloé was like a sister to him, but that didn’t stop him from seeing her less attractive sides.)

Lila was insidious. She wasn’t outwardly vicious or vindictive like Chloé. Instead, she spun intricate plans like a spider lying in wait to capture unsuspecting victims in her web of silver-tongued lies.

“Have you ever considered that it’s okay for Marinette to get attention?” he tentatively suggested. “It’s not a zero-sum game. Just because people are paying attention to her, that doesn’t take anything away from you, does it?”

“Any time people are fussing over her, they’re not lavishing me with attention; therefore, I do lose out if people pay attention to her,” Lila argued hotly. “You can forget about any delusions you have of making us get along and be friends. She has things that I want, and I’m prepared and willing to take them from her. There are some things that aren’t shareable.”

Adrien’s brow slid into a soft frown. “Like what?”

“Like you,” she replied airily, not letting him see the weight she placed on or the importance of this acquisition. “For starters, anyway.”

“I see,” he replied neutrally, taking another sip of his tea.

What he wanted to say was, “You’ll never have me”.

“Well…have you ever considered that maybe people would like you, even if you were just yourself around them?” he tried from a different angle.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re gullible and naïve. I’m my true self around you, and you despise me, don’t you?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Despise is a little strong,” he hedged.

She laughed mockingly at that. “Please. I’m the bane of your existence.”

“That would be Papillon,” he corrected. “I don’t necessarily hate you, Lila. You make me really angry sometimes, and I want to wring your neck when you hurt my friends, but, most of the time, I don’t hate you,” he explained, trying to convince her.

She cocked an eyebrow at him in suspicion, not taking his word for it.

“Most of the time, you’re an annoyance, and I resent you for being a crappy person,” he summarized. “But I don’t hate you.”

She nodded slowly, analyzing his words. “…I see…. So…how do your personal experiences with me lead you to believe that others would still fawn over me if I dropped the act and stopped telling them what they wanted to hear?”

Adrien pursed his lips as he came up with nothing.

“Mmhm.” She kept nodding. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Well. Thanks for the suggestion, but I think I like things the way they are at present, so I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing. Seriously, thanks, though,” she replied, voice dripping with irony.

“Doesn’t it ever get to you, though?” he pressed, showing his hand a little. “Not being able to be authentically yourself and accepted as you are by anyone?”

She tipped her head to the side, taking a slow sip of her Evian water as she pondered the earnestness of his tone. “Not really. Why? Is this a personal problem you’re having?”

He pulled the shutters down over his emotions, carefully composing his face into a neutral expression.

Like hell he was going to get into the complexities of the lies he had to tell the people he loved in order to protect them and his secret identity with Lila. She didn’t get to know how it tore him apart sometimes not being able to share aspects of his life as Adrien with Ladybug and how he longed to confide in Nino or Marinette about life as Chat Noir.

“If it were, I wouldn’t be talking about it with you,” he informed levelly keeping the ire out of his voice.

A quirky smile slowly turned up the corners of her lips as she chuckled, “Then why did you think I’d open up and be all vulnerable with you when you asked me?”

He blinked, surprised by the question.

He found himself hard pressed to answer her.

“Because you’re such a nice, sweet guy that everyone spills their guts to you?” she snickered. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, Adrien. I’m not a problem for you to fix, and I don’t need you to save me. I’m perfectly happy the way that I am.”

“Are you actually?” He really had to wonder. “How can you be? You don’t have any real friends…I mean…unless you count my father, and I don’t think he actually counts.”

She shrugged, unconcerned. “I don’t need friends. Friends are for mushy, weak people like you. You band together to protect yourselves because you’re stronger that way, but I don’t need other people like that. I’m tough enough to make it on my own.”

Adrien thought she was way off the mark, but it was obvious that he wouldn’t be convincing her about the benefits of friends at this time, let alone anytime soon.

“…Have you ever had friends?” he asked while she was in a divulging mood.

Even though she’d said not to analyze her, he couldn’t help but be curious. He had to believe that if he could just figure her out, he could help her stop hurting others and herself.

She paused to think for a moment, little trenches burrowing their way across her forehead as she did so. “…Maybe when I was little,” she finally answered. “I remember there were some kids around my age where we were living at the time, and we played together. I don’t remember their names. My family never stayed in one place long enough for me to really get to know anyone, so there was never any point in making friends in the way that you mean. These past three years is the longest I’ve ever been in one country, let alone one city. It’s kind of weird being stuck with the same people for so long.”

“That must have been hard, not feeling like there was any point in getting attached to anyone because you knew it wouldn’t be permanent,” he responded thoughtfully.

She rolled her eyes, balled up her napkin, and tossed it at him. “Oh, stop. I don’t need or want your pity. Stop trying to find explanations for why I am the way I am,” she commanded wearily. “I’m not some tragic romance novel antihero with deep reasons for acting the way I do. There’s no trauma for you to uncover and heal in order to make me a ‘good’ person. You don’t get to play hero this time.”

He held up his hands in surrender, backing down.

He didn’t think she was telling the truth exactly, but she was very clear about her wishes for him to drop it.

“Okay. Sorry,” he bowed out demurely, scooping the napkin she had thrown up off the floor and depositing it onto his tray with his own rubbish.

She snorted softly, crossing her arms. “Real people aren’t so black and white,” she grumbled. “We’re all grey on the inside.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” he agreed halfheartedly, still thinking that maybe there was something he could do to get through to her and make her want to change for the better.

“Give up,” she groaned, seeing the gears in his head moving. “You’re such a goody-goody. Just like Marinette. I’d say you two deserved each other if I didn’t want you for myself.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he chuckled, a faint smile coming back to his lips.

“This date is over,” she announced abruptly, sounding tired as she rose to her feet. “I didn’t come here for you to turn me into your next do-gooder project. I came here so that people would see me acting all lovey-dovey with Adrien Agreste. Since that’s not happening, you might as well take me home and go hang out with your loser friends like you wanted.”

Adrien hurriedly drained the rest of his tea and got together the rubbish to take over to the waste disposal bin.

“Sorry I’m such poor company,” he apologized, not bothering to put any feeling behind the words as he picked up her school bag to carry for her and held out his arm for her to take hold of.

“You’d better be,” she huffed, taking his arm and letting him escort her out of the restaurant to where his driver was waiting for them, parked on the street outside. “This is the worst date I’ve ever been on.”

“Have you been on many dates?” he wondered aloud without thinking.

“Plenty,” she retorted defensively. “Usually, the boys I date shower me with compliments and can’t take their eyes off of me the whole evening.”

“I must be defective,” he snickered, opening the car door for her. “Sorry. I promise I’ll do better at school tomorrow in front of our audience.”

“You’d better,” she grumbled, climbing in and crossing her arms sulkily.

 Adrien made a show of walking Lila to her door and giving her a parting kiss on the cheek in case any paparazzi were watching. “See you tomorrow, Ma Fleur.”

“I’ll miss you, My Prince,” she giggled, delighting in his compliance.

He slumped in the seat as soon as he got back into the car, feeling like all of the energy had been sucked out of him. He looked up to find Victor, his bodyguard, sneaking glances at him in the rearview mirror, trying to assess whether he was okay.

“Rough day,” he sighed, summoning up a tired smile. “I’m actually supposed to be over at Marinette’s playing video games right now, though, so…you don’t think you could drive me over there, do you?”

Victor gave a grunt and turned the car in the direction of Tom and Sabine’s.

#Adrinette #Adrienette #Marichat #Lady Noir #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Lila Rossi #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Fake Dating #Emotional Blackmail #Lila Gets Exposed #Happy Ending #Mikau's Writings #Betting Against the House

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Days 292 and 293

December 29-30 It is actually New Year's Eve but for once I am splitting a multi-day entry to avoid super-long journaling BECAUSE I LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH! And also because it's been a busy few days. Tuesday was grocery day, a much smaller grocery day than last time but still respectably sized. We pulled up to Walmart next to an old station wagon with a older-middle-age woman standing next to it. The back hatch of the wagon was propped open by a 2x4 and she was standing by herself but looked sour enough to spit vinegar. I have no idea what her story was, but while we were getting our groceries loaded, we could see her with her own beleaguered Walmart employee standing helplessly aside while she pawed through every bag before allowing it to be loaded. I mean seriously, I understand wanting to get the right groceries in your pickup, but if you're going to go to that extent (which is very much against Walmart's current touchless-pickup protocol, btw), maybe just get your own groceries. Everyone will be happier. Anyway, we got our groceries and MIL got her teeth cleaned, and in the evening we got takeout from one of our favorite local restaurants. We were worried it would be difficult because they have kind of a weird parking lot situation, but they had things down to a science and it was as easy as picking up the groceries, with marked curbside spots and everything. Nice! It became increasingly clear that MIL's car has a keyfob lost somewhere inside it, or the car certainly thinks it does, so pickup also means never having to leave a car that cannot be secured anywhere for too long. Wednesday was a super-busy day. We got up early-early so MIL and I could get to Trader Joe's during their senior hour, which is Wednesday from 8-9. We scored a handicap spot and it wasn't too busy, so we had fun filling our cart with New Year's goodies and stuff she hadn't been able to get for a long time. (MIL very rarely goes to TJ's by herself because it's so crowded and the area is congested.) We needed a few more things and The Fresh Market's parking lot was nearly empty, so we stopped there quickly as well. This was the first grocery shopping MIL has done in weeks, so she was very happy. We hit the bakery section pretty hard! In normal days we'd have gone to Starbucks as well, and while we were there seen what Ingles had to offer, but Ingles does a terrible job of masking and we do not go there right now, even to their little Starbucks. We were home by 10:30, which gave me a comfortable amount of time to wrap all the presents for my sister's family before we had to eat lunch and hit the road. We planned the trip so we could be there between around 2:30-4:30, miss any mealtimes, and hopefully not hit the worst of the traffic. It turned out pretty well! We got there at 2:40, pretty doggone close to on time. I had one final washcloth in Christmas-colored cotton yarn to knit on the way, so the trip went _real_ fast for me. But I got it done! Kiddo and my older nephew, who is about six this year, get along famously and spent the entire time playing with Super Nintendo (retro cool now!) and Nerf guns. Nephew liked his hat, too! Everyone liked their hats except baby nephew, who was wearing nothing but a diaper when I arrived. He wore a diaper and a hat for approximately five seconds, long enough to get two blurry photos, before he managed to yank it off. But it did fit!  The other presents also went over well and that was nice. It was so, so, so weird to have a visit with masks and no hugs. It felt like straining at invisible plastic barriers, everyone wanting to be closer and trying so hard to be good. I am glad we went, but even gladder that we will have a chance to see them again in February when we are not going to be risking MIL and can lock down enough to stay with them and have hugs and no masks. We did get a masked picture of all of us that is pretty funny. We left before five, pretty close to on schedule, and got back to MIL's around 7:15. She made amazing zuppa toscana that I have acquired the recipe for, and a crustless quiche because the pie crust we bought did not work out. It was tasty. It was nice to have a night with no compulsory knitting finally, but I was too tired to do anything with it except vegetate.

#quarantine #christmas presents

[spectralscathath]

Queen, Knave, King

fair Game Week, Day 6: Atlas Ball/Mantle Battle

Clover Ebi is in love with a dusty old Qrow. He knows it, Elm knows it, even Robyn knows it.

Let the cards fall where they may.

Ao3 Link

Elm spotted Branwen as he skulked around the edge of the Schnee grounds, snow crunching under his shoes in the silence as his cape fluttered behind him, the cold winds bracing and biting at her cheeks.

She shrugged to herself and walked over, giving Vine a wave to let him know she was going off on her own. He gave her a simple nod back, drawing a smile from her. It was nice to have such simple trust with her close friend.

Most people usually assumed they were a couple, which was something that Elm didn’t mind, exactly, but she knew Vine was as utterly disinterested in romance as she herself was. It just wasn’t something she felt. She’d rather have a close friend to watch her back then a lover, and that was that.

Before Vine had joined the Ace Ops, that friend had been Clover. The two of them had just been specialists that Ironwood kept pairing up, his flexible weapon and clever mind pairing well with her sheer sturdiness and ample strength.

It had been an excellent distraction at first, to apply her Huntress skills again with an entirely new element, and this time with someone who had luck on his side almost all the time. Much less likely he’d go the way of her old team. That had been reassuring.

Somewhere along the line, she’d started feeding him. She couldn’t help it, cooking and baking were just as much in her blood as being a warrior was. Unlike the friendships of team SBLE, formed through four years of battle and school, Clover’s friendship was found over shared meals and stories of a world beyond Atlas.

So, when she’d seen her friend steadily falling head-over-heels for a grumpy spy with a reckless defiance and a dour attitude, of course she knew it was her solemn duty to make sure her friend wasn’t going to get another scar on his ironically unlucky heart.

“Hey! Branwen!��� She called out as he migrated from the grounds to striding along the top of the garden wall, steps light and balanced with his hands in his pockets.

He glanced at her and raised a brow, shifting his weight so he didn’t fall as she jogged over. “You after something, Ederne?”

She put a hand on her hip and looked up at his perch, taking another moment to deliberate on her plan of attack. “You know, you’ve been here for ages now and I still haven’t gotten a chance to even talk to you.”

“Been busy,” he drawled, shrugging at her.

“Hanging out with Clover, yes, I’m aware,” she grinned brashly, watching as his hair puffed up a little bit like an actual bird’s.

“What’s it to you?” Oh he got huffy. Guess he didn’t like that.

“Nothing much, I just want to talk.” She toned down her volume a little bit. Not everyone was as gung-ho as she was.

“About Clover?” Qrow glared at her, and were his cheeks a little pinker or was Elm imagining things?

“Maybe. But also just in general. I’ve seen reruns of your team’s Vytal Festivals. You were pretty impressive in your Academy days.” So was she, considering she had the winner’s trophy still on her shelf at her place.

Qrow gave her a suspicious look before he sat down on the wall, one leg dangling down as he used his other knee to prop up his elbow. “You’re a tournament fan?”

“I have the boxsets,” she admitted without a trace of shame. “You’re not?”

“I watched the one my nieces were in and that’s it. Except for when it was on in Vale when Ruby and Yang were kids, then it was a big family outing.” He waved a hand dismissively. “What’s your angle?”

“No angle.” That got a scoff. “Clover’s a good man to have watching your back out in the field. A good friend off of it as well.”

“Thought you Ace Ops didn’t do friendship,” he rolled his eyes at her.

“We’re not schoolkids, it’s not like we’re a clique,” she smiled patiently, like she had when team RWBY had said the same. “It’s a job first, and the job comes first, out on the field. Sometimes tough calls have to be made, or sometimes you lose people.” She knew that one firsthand.

“Yeah. Friends don’t usually work for me anyway. It’s best when I work alone.”

“Because you’ve done so much of that recently,” she couldn’t help a grin, and the glare that he shot her was downright malevolent.

“It’s different when his semblance can protect him.” Qrow snarled defensively. There was something under that, though. Something guilty and unspoken, like there was an end to the sentence he hadn’t tacked on.

“It can do that, yes, just as mine prevents me from being knocked down, but is that really all there is? He’s a good guy, and he’s worth making a connection with.” Well, this was something of a shovel talk, so she may as well bring it full circle. In for a penny, out for a pound. “Just… don’t string him along and hurt him. His luck can’t protect him from everything.”

She reached an arm over her shoulder, patting Timber affectionately with a cheerful grin that showed one too many teeth. “And if you do hurt him, as in, maliciously, your ass is dead. No pressure, though.”

Qrow snorted. “You think you can take me on?”

“I think I’m the woman who jumped off Atlas City and walked away whistling.”

Qrow blinked at her, looking almost impressed. “Huh. I have a friend in Patch you’d probably get on well with.”

“Introduce me some time when the CCT goes up,” she chuckled. “Just do what you think is best for you. And if that’s Clover, treat him well, okay?” Because Clover kept tossing Qrow the soppiest looks when he thought no one was looking, and even last night over their weekly dinner at her place he’d talked non-stop for twenty minutes about how ‘utterly gorgeous’ Qrow apparently was.

Which, valid, she didn’t get it, but hey, it made Clover happy. That was what mattered.

Qrow was still making some grumbly squawks of what was probably denial at her, and she shrugged them off with her usual unshakeability. “Anyway, good luck~” She singsonged as she walked off, and the next words thrown at her head was definitely an insult.

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

“Robyn, something came up! Qrow and I are going to be late.” Clover’s voice rang tinnily in her ear with the sounds of combat and gunfire in the background, the earpiece hidden by her hair as it squeaked uncomfortably. She held back a wince as she walked down the alleyway, technically searching for survivors but really walking around as the perfect bait for one little scorpion, slightly homicidal.

Damn. Sure, she wanted to beat the everloving shit out of Tyrian on her own, but she knew that it was smartest to have back-up on this fight, as much as it stung her pride.

Looks like she’d just have to manage until Boy Scout and his boyfriend showed up.

She hoped they were dating, at least. She and Clover barely talked anymore, not since she made a Mistake, big capital letters. Even her ego had to concede that particular clusterfuck that had destroyed their friendship had, yes, been her fault.

Still, she recognised what Clover In Love looked like, especially his showing off. She wondered how much of his posturing out in the tundra had been to try look tough in front of her and how much of it was him posturing for that goth twunk.

While he’d not taken her hand, a fair response after everything that had gone down between them and their partnership, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d finished her interrogation with ‘do you have a crush on someone right now’ like some teenage girl at a slumber party.

Her semblance, at least, never lied. Not the part she let herself use.

The rest? That didn’t lie either, but she wasn’t ever going to do that to someone again.

She wondered if the caped Huntsman with the hobo scruff knew how lucky he was. Clover was at heart a genuinely decent person, dumbass goody-two-shoes need to follow the rules aside, and his loyalty to Ironwood had actually turned out to be founded in common sense and actual loyalty instead of blind military obedience.

She wondered where his boyfriend stood on the whole Salem matter. Did he know too?

Well, he fucking did now.

She walked along, forcing herself not to look up at the rooftops of the alley around her. She was believed to be a main target for Tyrian, because of her ties to Mantle and especially the fact that she was alone now.

Tyrian was a predator, apparently. He’d want to skew things in his favour, and he probably thought a little bird all on her lonesome would be such an easy hit.

Robyn’s lips twisted into a vulpine smile, teeth flashing. Careful, Callows, this little birdy had fangs.

She heard boots land on the ground behind her and whipped around, her crossbow up and a bolt nocked and loaded. Tyrian Callows stood behind her, a mechanical stinger weaving almost playfully through the air behind him. He spread his arms in a theatrical gesture, brows furrowed with anger despite his smile.

“Robyn Hill!” He announced, crazed yellow eyes focused on her own. “You have such an impact on this city, it’s not what I would have expected from such a sweet-faced vixen like yourself.”

She loosed the bolt at his head, baring her teeth in a threat as he dodged it, an amused cast to his features. He was fast. Damnit. “If I’m so sweet then why do you want to kill me?”

Tyrian cackled at that. “I can’t have you bringing your hope and wonder everywhere you go, that just wouldn’t do!” He caught the next crossbow bolt between his fingers, faking a hurt look. “I find it… disappointing.”

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.” She shifted her weight, ready to move the second he came at her. She missed her longbow. She would have liked to use it to beat him to death. Maybe Clover could steal it back from the military for her, if he wasn’t busy mooning over that scruffy weirdo.

Tyrian snapped the crossbow bolt in his hand. “Oh I know, my dear vixen. Are you waiting for your dearest friends to arrive?”

Robyn shifted uncomfortably at the possessive undertone to his nickname for her, her crossbow ready. Catch this one, bitch, go on. “So you figured it out.” That apparently wasn’t the only thing he figured out either. Fuck.

“Do you think I’m a fool?” He laughed, pressing a hand to his chest. “Why, Robyn dearest, I’m hurt! No, the pretty bird and his kingfisher got held up by the General’s own bots. The good Doctor made sure of it.”

That explained the gunshots. “Guess I’ll just have to beat you myself then, Callows.”

His chuckles faded into a wicked smirk, his eyes glowing purple for a moment as his blades extended on his wrists, shaped like a scorpion’s pincers.  “You missed my blades at your rally, but worry not. You will never escape me now, my dear.”

He charged at her, laughing as he blocked every bolt she shot. He slashed at her and she jumped, her boot landing on his head as she used him as a stepping stone before she landed in a combat roll.

Her next crossbow bolt was knocked aside by his tail as he turned to face her, smile plastered on his face. She set her jaw in determination, lavender eyes hard as steel. Clover and his boyfriend better hurry the fuck up.

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

Clover tied up a bunch of Atlas bots, leaving them stuck for Harbinger to slash through them like butter. He looked around for any others and let out a breath he’d been holding when he saw no more.

“Qrow, come on, we have to go.” Robyn was fighting Tyrian alone and like hell was he going to let her do that alone. She was good, but from what Qrow said, Callows was better.

Qrow pulled his scythe from a bot and nodded, following him along. “You think they figured out she was bait?”

“I’ll bet.” He flung Kingfisher at a rooftop and reeled himself up, aiming to use them to get the drop on Tyrian. “That’s likely where the robots came from.”

He missed Qrow’s mutter of ‘just like Beacon’ as he aimed for where Robyn was meant to be, trusting that Qrow would be hot on his heels. They worked well together. Trust was a logical conclusion.

That was what he told himself but according to Elm he was not subtle nor did he have any intent to be. He liked Qrow, quite a lot, and he was fine with that.

Also he was going to take that moment where Qrow made a luck joke to him earlier this evening and run with it because that was a potentially very good sign.

A good sign that he could think about later, as he heard the sounds of a fight up ahead, filtering up the top of an alley into the Mantle air, and sped up.

He skidded to a stop at the rooftop in time to watch Robyn land a vicious hook into Tyrian’s face, knocking him back just enough for her to wind up for a kick to his crotch. Tyrian’s tail hooked around her foot, before his hand glowed with a strange purple light.

Clover tossed Kingfisher’s reel down to snag on his wrist, yanking his hand out of the way as Robyn rallied and tossed a punch into his throat. Faster then even Clover could react, his other hand skated across her arm with that same purple energy, her lavender aura shattering to pieces as the stinger wrapped around her leg constricted.

He heard the sound of cracking bone all the way from the top of the building, saw the tip of the stinger extend, and yanked with all the force he could manage to get the bastard away from his old partner.

He saw a blur of red and brown-grey drop past him before Qrow’s heel hit hard against the side of Tyrian’s head, Tyrian’s tail flicking to toss Robyn against the wall before he turned all his attention to the new player in the arena.

Clover jumped down, taking one glance at Qrow to judge the situation. Qrow’s gorgeous red eyes locked on his as the other Huntsman gave him a smirk, before turning his attention to Tyrian with a dangerous growl. “Miss me, Callows?”

Clover tuned out Tyrian’s gleeful response as he ran over to Robyn and crouched, looking her over for damages. The impact against the brick wall at the end there had caused her hair to fall loose from her usual ponytail, much more like the flyaway mess he recognised from Academy days. “Robyn, status report.”

“You’re late,” she grinned toothily at him, sitting up. Her long coat was missing, likely shredded in the fight if the tattered fabric on the ground was any indicator. Her left leg moved with the motion and she winced a bit, looking at the damage. “I’m fine, go help your boyfriend.”

He decided not to even bother telling her Qrow wasn’t his boyfriend as right now they were on a timer. “I have a small field kit, let me see your ankle first and if he stung you, then I’ll go beat his face in.”

“Fighting for my honour now, Biceps?” She chuckled, blowing her hair out of her eyes.

“Who says it’s for you?” He paused when he noticed a skinny red tail, tipped with white, poking out of a cut in her trousers, thin and limp and raggedy looking. “You shaved it?”

She shrugged at him, looking a little wistful about it. “Faunus don’t run for politics, Clover. Half of Mantle still hates them. If I want to make real change, it had to be done.”

“I know, Robert.” He nodded and focused on getting the supplies, rolling up her pant leg and whistling at the damage. The skin was already darkening with a ring of bruises, her shin noticeably caved in. The puncture wound was just under her knee, sluggishly leaking a mixture of violet and red.

He heard her swear when she saw it herself and then she spat out a filthy curse when he gave it a small prod. “It’s fucking broken, don’t touch it, dumbass!”

“Do you want to do your own field dressings? Because I’ll let you,” he snarked at her, tossing a glance over to where Qrow was using Harbinger as a reversed blade, curved around his forearm, almost like he was holding a tonfa, and used it to block Tyrian’s blades.

“Just hurry up and splint it and shit.” Robyn gritted her teeth. “Distract me by telling me how long you’ve been dating five o’clock shadow.”

“We aren’t dating.” Yet, he added to himself.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. Clover, what the fuck.”

“I’m working on asking him out.” He splinted her leg and she let out a sharp bark, the sound catching Tyrian’s attention. He charged at them before Qrow’s hand landed on his stinger tail, right under his telson, and yanked him back into their fight.

“Do it now, right now, after you beat that sicko, or else I’m telling him about the Haddock Incident.”

“Don’t you dare, Robert,” he dressed her sting and sat her against the wall. “Call a medic and a prison transport, we’re taking him in.”

Robyn grinned and raised her crossbow. “I got one arrow left, just for him. We’ll see him smile after that.”

“I’ll make sure you get the shot,” he knocked his knuckles against hers, careful not to touch the bare skin of her index finger. Some wounds went deep.

He pulled Kingfisher from his belt and cast the line forward, catching it on Tyrian’s tail as he yanked him back long enough for Qrow to land an uppercut and a shotgun blast right to his midsection.

Tyrian glared darkly at him, face twisted in a snarl as his eyes glowed like stars in the dark. Clover only had eyes for the genuine smile Qrow shot him, tinged with adrenaline and full of trust. He met that gaze with confidence, resolution setting in the furrow of his brow. Time to end this.

“Tyrian Callows, you’re under arrest.”

--------

I’m partial to Fox Faunus! Robyn, yes.

#Fair Game #fairgameweek2020 #Clover Ebi #Qrow Branwen #rwby #Also Elm and Robyn are here and they have OPINIONS on Clover's love life #Tyrian's here as an overdramatic punching bag #my writings

[cravingcrazewriting]

I don’t want to be rescued, I’ll just stay with the orcs, thanks!

Jared gazed at the birthmark on his right cheek through the reflection of his helmet. He shook his head and sighed as he pulled his helmet over his head, ready to fight the Orc Horde.

He looked over at Evan, a baker who was passing out bread. Evan was the least judgement of him because he had a talking problem, so he knew how it felt to be mocked and ridiculed. He went over to him to get his bread. 

Evan looked at him and smiled, "H-hey Jared. How, how are you?" He asked, handing him a loaf.

Jared shrugged, "A little shitty, but that's normal. Still pinning on that street rat, Murphy?"

Evan blushed, "Actually, I l-let him have a job, at the, at the b-bakery. He's tending to it while I'm, while I'm o-out."

Jared smiled, "Nice. Way to get yourself out there." He ate a small bit of the load. 

"I uh, gotta go. I need to, to feed the other k-knights," Evan rambled, before hurrying off. 

Jared leant back against the wall, watching the knights talking, probably about girls. Pfff, typical knights. Soon, after he was halfway through his bread, he put it away for later, and saw knights grabbing their swords, spears, shields, bows and arrows. Jared grabbed his two silver daggers, put his arrows on his back, and put his bow onto there as well. He hurried after the knights, who were already gathering around the captain.

"Alright men, this is a high stakes mission! According to my scouts, The Horde is still weak from our last attack. BUT!! Does that mean they'll just give up and drop their weapons? No! Orcs are extremely prideful creatures who want to rule over our land, and it's up to us to stop them! If you die in battle today, then you have served your purpose as a knight. If you live, you continue to help our purpose. If you're captured.. you're a liability to us, and we cannot save you," the Captain explained to his men confidently and was full with pride.

"Yeah!!" The knights enthused, and lifted their weapons into the air. Jared of course did this as well.

Jared silently wished he was as brave and prideful as the other knights, but he wasn't. All the training he went through to get to this point was because his parents couldn't make enough money to support him along with the farm anymore. He wasn't passionate about fighting, but it gave him some coin in the end, so that was all that mattered to him. Besides, he wouldn't care if he died on the battlefield either.

Later on, the group of knights spotted the Orcs, who seemed to be at camp, eating clumps of meat for a meal. Their nails were long and their teeth were sharp like razors, but nothing compared to their green skin and horns. According to legend, Orcs were cursed men who did wicked deeds, and suffered a horrible transformation that would show their crimes. 

Jared felt pity for them, if he was honest with himself. 

He turned his head to see one of the knights, Jake, oh wow, what a cocky bastard he was, drawing his bow and aimed at one of the orcs.

"Dingler, sheath your bow and stop being a show off!" The captain whisper-yelled.

Jake didn't bother listening. He released the arrow, watching as it flew into an orc's exposed shoulder, who screamed in pain and whipped around, seeing the knights above them.

"Intruders!!"The orc yelled, removing their axe from their belt, and started to climb the rocks above them.

"Look at what you've done! You didn't even kill one, our position is compromised!" The captain turned to the other knights. "Men, get ready! We've got a fight on our hands!"

Jared took out his bow and looked down at the orcs. They were halfway up. He fired a few arrows at them, hoping to cause  delay. A couple of orcs fell down, but it didn't do much. More knights joined by his side, while others slid down the hill, knocking down more orcs. 

It seemed the knights had the advantage. Jake went behind Jared and shoved him, saying, "Hope the orcs get ya!"

Jared stumbled down, scrapping his knees and elbows. His bow was snapped in two, and his arrows were scattered, so he only had his daggers now. He slowly stood, drawing both of them, preparing to fight the orcs.

One orc stared at him in awe, which was weird because Jared expected to be killed by now (which again, he wouldn't mind). He didn't understand what exactly was the matter. 

Suddenly, the orc grabbed him and ran away from the horde. Jared held in a scream. He was being captured! Didn't anyone notice?! No, of course no one did, as the other knights were fleeing from the orcs.

Jared felt weak in the orcs hold. He struggled slightly, but it only made him fatigued. He could feel how heavy his eyelids were, as he lost consciousness.

~€~

"Where the hell did you find him at?" 

"On the battle field. He's very handsome, yes?"

"He's human. The chief won't like this! Urug, what were you thinking?!"

"Wanted to protect him.."

Jared slowly opened his eyes, groaning as he sat up, looking around. His head was pounding. He turned his head to the orc from before and.. apparently he wasn't the only person here either.

The orc, who he assumed was Urug, was large and lanky, wearing dark green armor that was covered with spikes. He looked.. terrifying, to say the least.

Jared looked the person standing by the orc. He was short, wore the same armor as Urug, and had some red dyed into his hair. Jared spotted some burn marks on his skin.

"Looks like you're awake, now. You've got some scratches on your shoulder, but otherwise you look okay," the stranger said, gesturing to his shoulder.

Jared spared a glance at said shoulder. He assumed it was from when Jake pushed him. "I don't get it.. why are you two protecting me?"

Urug twiddled with his fingers. "You are.. very handsome. Your comrades were stupid to leave someone of great beauty behind."

Jared snorted, "Me? Handsome?" He shook his head, raising an eyebrow. "You've got the wrong guy."

"I think what Urug is trying to say is that he has different standards than when he was human. He recognizes true beauty inside someone, even if they're ugly on the outside," the stranger explained. 

Jared shrugged it off. "Whatever. Anyways, if you're not an orc, why are you with them?"

"Just because I'm not cursed doesn't mean I'm not different. I've had to deal with being shorter than average my entire life," they crossed their arms.

"You also have burn marks," Urug added on. "People are disgusted by scars."

Jared made a face, "Everyone in my village is obsessed with their appearances."

Urug tsked, "They're real monsters," he shook his head. "Anyways, we have not been properly introduced. I am Urug, and this is my comrade, Rich."

Rich hummed, "Nice to meet you.. er."

"Jared," he filled in. "So you're not bugged by.. this?" He pointed to his birthmark.

"Legends say that birthmarks resemble how we died. You have a very unique mark," Urug complimented him.

Jared of course blushed. "I've.. never been told that before." 

Rich hummed, "Considering you're an outcast like everyone else here, the chief will probably let you stay. We just gotta talk to him first."

So, they went to the chief, who was the biggest and strongest orc of the tribe. The chief gazed at Jared warily. "You bring a spy, Rich?"

Rich shook his head. "No! Look at his birthmark. He's just like us!" 

The chief leaned forward, "Come closer, little man." 

Jared complied, moving closer to the chief.

The chief observed him. "Who are you? What's your story?"

"My name is Jared. I used to be a knight, but I was left behind during a fight," Jared explained.

"Short and simple. You will prove useful here, but remember that you're with us now. If you betray us, we will crush you," the chief warned him, earning a quick nod from Jared. "Good. Retrieve your gear, for you are going to a small town to get food supplies. Rich will accompany you."

"Got it! I'll go get ready!" Jared left with Rich to prepare.

Rich grabbed a small bag of gold, and attached it to his belt. "I recommend bringing something small to fight with. Daggers are the easiest to bring, but I like a sword." He explained, grabbing a sword and strapped it on his back. 

Jared grinned, retrieving his two daggers. "Daggers are more so my style, so that's pretty handy. Do you have any cloaks?"

Rich handed him a brown one. "Here. People usually just assume we're travelers or something. They're stupid like that." 

"Comes especially in handy for us," Jared slid it on and Rich did the same. 

The two went off to the small town, exchanging stories from their childhood. Rich apparently had lived with society until he was six, after his mother was in a fire and he was cast aside, and found by Orcs who showed more compassion for him. Jared told him about how his parents neglected him and refused to accept he was being picked on. They both sympathized with one another.

"Okay, I'll get apples, you get bread," Rich told him, and went to find an appropriate cart. 

Jared already had a place in mind, as he headed to Evan's bakery. It didn't have a fancy name, everyone just called it the bakery and that was fine. He stepped inside and was met with the sweet smell of bread cooking in the fire pit. Of course, there was pie cooking too and other goodies, but bread was important to the Orcs for some reason, so he had to get that. Before he went to make the order, however, he heard giggling from behind the counter. Not wanting to interrupt, Jared listened in, because he's snoopy like that.

"You're- you're covered in f-flour, Connor!" Evan snickered at the taller male, who indeed, was covered in flour.

"It's not my fault I'm shit at baking," Connor replied, putting his hands on his hips. He had his hair tied up into a bun, and his apron didn't prove to being doing anything, as his clothes were a powdery white.

Evan crossed his arms, grinning at him. "Remind me why I hired you."

"Because I make a great taste tester?" Connor mused, and wiped some of the flour onto Evan's face. "Oops."

"Hey!" It sounded like there was rustling, like Evan was going to throw more flour at him, and Jared decided he'd have to save Evan from wasting all his supplies on a food fight. He knocked on the wood before stepping over.

Evan flushed at almost being caught. "Um, how can I- how can I h-help you?"

Jared lowered his voice so Evan wouldn't recognize him. "How much bread will this get me?" He dumped half of the bag out, and the coins spilt onto the counter. 

Evan gasped at the amount. "A.. a ton! Just give me a second to b-bag it up!" He grabbed Connor by the arm, urging him to hurry and bag the bread. 

Jared silently watched them, and he knew what was going on. Either they were a thing or wanted to become one, but it wouldn't be easy. It was another thing that was frowned upon. Jared thought that they'd run out to the forest if it became too big of a deal, he supposed, because staying in such a hateful place just.. isn't good for anyone. He hoped for the best for them.

"Here you go!" Evan gave him the bag, and waved goodbye as he walked out of the bakery.

"See? Not so hard," Rich said, walking Jared out of town. "We get gold from looting from the soliders, because they make a damn good amount of money."

"I was half tempted to buy a pie," Jared joked.

"Maybe after all the fighting and diversity is over. For now, however, we have to fight."

And even if that was true, it was better being free and fighting for it, then being restraining and punished for being different.

#memebois #jared kleinman #rich goranski #deh #dear evan hansen #bmc #be more chill #medevil au #evan hansen #conner murphy #treebros

[the-coconut-asado]

Crazy for Kiwi Crickets

When it comes to eating out in Fiji, you are only as good as your last success.

 Consistently get it right and the punters will flock. Anything less than excellent and it’s ‘Maaan that place has gone downhill – but the duck soup at Harbour Centre is the Bomb!’ You can’t actually get duck soup at Harbour Centre, but anything with duck in Suva is a sure-fire winner as they are in constant short supply.

 Fiji is always in pursuit of the New Big Thing. That duck soup place I mentioned was actually the New Big Thing once, so was The Guava Café (doorstep griddled toast and Land of the Giant-sized portions); Singh’s burn-your-ring curry house and the Chinese restaurant at Samabula where you got a decent takeaway and a ringside seat at a sailors’ punch up.

 There are some classics that never go out of fashion. The cream buns at Hot Bread Kitchen – the ‘cream’ is actually buttercream and they sell them in sets of six like monkey bread so yeah, good luck with just eating one; Cardo’s Steakhouse in Denarau – they claim their cattle are descendants of Argentine castaways from the 19th century (kind of yarn that could spark a punch up in that Samabula Chinese restaurant, but the steaks ARE consistently good); Friday seafood lunch at Suva Bowling Club (you may not recognise half the seafood on your plate, and that’s a good thing); And, sadly closed now, The Cottage – tucked behind the main drag in Suva, serving the best local Fiji food and only open at lunchtime. And didn’t we all wail when the owner retired and shut up shop after decades of top-quality chow.

Anyway, it’s quite something when the New Big Thing is your sister-in-law’s café. Weta (Coffee) Fiji, the fifth child of Mue and her husband Darran, opened its doors in March this year. 

The café gets its name from a gerbil-sized cricket native to New Zealand. A quick google search and you can watch a film of a weta fighting a foraging pig, so maybe not exotic pet material. 

While the lion’s share of daily sales will always be the coffee (and we returned with bags of beans to London, it’s that good), it’s the food at Weta that’s getting the lion’s share of hype. World Health Organisation apparatchiks would probably advise not have more than one Honey Butter Waffle a month, yet people are spectacularly carb-loading these Weta signature goodies daily on their way to work. Take a look at the picture below and you could so easily join them.

Aside from the waffle-fest, Mue and cousin Cherie (whose aunt founded that other Fiji café classic Bulaccino) have entered into a kind of foodie face-off with each other, competing to see who can come up with the most mouth-watering innovations. The Honey Butter Waffles already give 1-0 to Mue; but ever thought of combining crispy nuggets of bacon with a rich mayonnaise, slathering it on a chicken schnitzel and sandwiching it all in a toasted mini baguette? Then check out their Chicken Baconnaise Panini and Cherie evens the score. How about a teal-green smoothie that tastes fruity and delicious but you don’t know why? Place your order for their Ugly Green Juice  - a joint invention so let’s call it a draw. I assiduously worked my way through most of their menu over two weeks and couldn’t find much that was less than evil genius.

Because this is a family concern, and Mue does a lot of her experimenting in her own kitchen, I got caught up in the whole entrepreneurial swirl when we were there this summer. Watching while Mue, with apparent carelessness cloaking a keen cook’s eye, tossed ingredients for her Marsala Chai muffins into the food processor at 5 in the morning while simultaneously whipping up a vegan version of her waffle mix. Slavishly watching her EPOS app to see if the sales dial had moved to kerching! levels – in short, generally starting to catch the fever of the hospitality business owner. Is Suva ready for Kava Hot Chocolate? (Kava is the ceremonial drink of Fiji with delicate overtones of mud). Apparently yes, and at least 10 people on the first day of sales had a dreamless sleep that night. Another invention marked up to Mue and another profit stream.

Having eaten our body weight in tropical breakfast patisserie, we left Suva for a few days to head to our own New Big Thing on Fiji’s Other Big Island.   

Savusavu is a picturesque town with a bay big enough to host a fistful of yachts and a marina to moor them. Even though it’s popular, the road to Savusavu – which nestled on the South coast of Vanua Levu - is one less travelled compared to the resort islands of Western Viti Levu. It has a reputation as a millionaire’s playground and we were told ‘be careful, you won’t want to come back’ (do people wrongly assume that we are at home in the company of dicks with yachts?). Anyway, they weren’t wrong about the beauty of the place, and I can now tell them a few tales about some unexpected food epiphanies.

The first was thanks to Sarah, the owner of the Gecko Guesthouse. It said in our Airbnb blurb that she would throw in a cooking lesson if we asked nicely. Which we did, and she obliged, if a little reluctantly at first. We spent one chilled-out evening learning her techniques for snake bean and bitter gourd curries (be sparing rather than slavish with your spices), a-ma-zing fish madras (although we can’t get fresh walu in the West, swordfish would be a decent substitute) and clever hack for cooking rice (err, use an electric rice maker).

However, the piece de resistance of Savusavu is a ‘dive’ (my friend Ije’s word when he saw the Insta post) called Arun’s Hidden Taste of Paradise. 

The name felt a bit at odds with its appearance, which is a little grubby and dishevelled, but don’t be fooled. The clue is in the word ‘hidden’ because if you make it through their mesh-covered door you will taste cassava chips which are meltingly creamy on the inside and quadruple-cooked crispy on the outside and, hands down, the best butter chicken I have eaten in my life. The eponymous Arun, both owner and cook, seemed frankly scared when I asked for a photo, so I didn’t push on asking for the recipe – but kept the flavour profile running around in my head for the rest of the trip.

Obsessed as I was, I hunted down ingredients lists for butter chicken on my bookshelves and I think I have found a pretty good match in Vivek Singh, who based his Cinnamon Club classic on a 1950’s recipe from the Moti Mahal in Old Delhi. But then I saw a recipe for a curry pie in last month’s Delicious Magazine and had the brainwave to make this pie with the butter chicken. And while you might have to make the trip to Suva to get Mue’s original and best Honey Butter Waffles TM, I have slightly adapted her Chai Latte and Choc Chip Muffins  and Ugly Green juice here.

So raise your Ugly-Green juice-filled glass to New Big Things. And watch out for the next one - the launch of Mue and Darran’s Writers Lodge guesthouse with Kava Bar and Weta Café later this Autumn.

You can follow them on @wetafiji. 

 Butter Chicken Pie

You can just make this butter chicken straight with pilau rice and all the trimmings, but turning it into a pie takes it to the next level. This pastry is super short and crispy, thanks to a mix of butter and lard. Don’t be put off by the long list of ingredients or the processes. It’s dead easy over a lazy Sunday and the flavours are so worth it. Serves 4.

 Ingredients:

For the butter chicken:

800g boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into bite-sized pieces

One red chilli and some coriander leaves

1 large red pepper, seeded and cut into strips

For the marinade: 

120g Greek yoghurt

5 garlic cloves, grated or crushed

1 inch piece  of ginger, peeled and grated

1 tbsp sunflower oil

Juice of 1 large lemon

Kosher salt and pepper to taste

3 tsp chilli powder

1 tsp ground cumin

½ tsp garam masala

½ tsp turmeric

For the sauce:

8-10 tomatoes

1 in piece of ginger, half grated and half chopped finely

4 garlic cloves, grated or crushed

4 green cardamom pods, 2 cloves, 1 bay leaf

2 tsp chilli powder

80g salted butter, diced

2 green chillies, split lengthwise but still joined at the stem

80ml single cream

A few dried fenugreek leaves

1tsp garam masala

1 tbsp. sugar

For the spiced butter:

1 Tbsp. ghee

1 tsp black mustard seeds

1 tsp. crushed chillies

For the pastry:

230g plain flour

1 tsp kosher salt

65g salted butter, and 50g lard, both chilled and cubed

4tsp. soured cream

1 tbsp. apple cider vinegar( or use white wine vinegar as a substitute)

4 tsp. water

1 egg., beaten

3 tbsp. lime pickle (I like Pataks)

2 tbsp. sugar

How to make:

First marinate the chicken. Mix all marinade ingredients, stir in the chicken, cover and pop in the fridge for at least 2 hours, or preferably overnight.

 Heat the oven to 220C/ Gas 9. Spread the chicken pieces out in one layer on a large baking tray, leaving a margin on the side to say out the strips of red pepper, tossed in a tsp. olive oil. Cook for 15-20 mins, turning the pieces halfway through so that they cook evenly. Remove from the oven and set aside while you make the sauce.

 Slice the tomatoes in half and put in a large saute pan with 125 ml water, grated ginger, garlic, cardamom, cloves and bay leaf. Simmer, covered for about 25 mins until the tomatoes are mushy (the aroma from this simmer will already be driving you wild with desire). Remove the whole spices, add the chilli powder and simmer for a further 10 mins (Vivek likes to push the tomatoes through a sieve and just use the resultant puree, but I prefer my sauce to be a bit more rugged, a little less refined).

 Add the chicken pieces and the red pepper slices and all their juices and give it a good stir. Slowly stir in the butter, a couple of cubes at a time, and simmer for about 8 minutes until the chicken is cooked through. Add the chopped ginger, chillies and cream and simmer for a minute or two longer. Stir in 1 tsp.kosher salt, crumble in the fenugreek leaves and the garam masala. Adjust the seasoning if necessary then add the sugar.

 In a separate small pan, warm up all the ingredients for the spiced butter until the seeds start to pop. At this stage you can serve the Butter Chicken with the spiced butter spooned over the top, but if progressing with the pie (which I urge you to do) , then set both the chicken and the spiced butter to one side.

Now make the pastry (you can also make this ahead and chill, just bring back to room temperature before rolling out). Combine the flour , salt and a generous grind of black pepper in a food processor. Add the butter and lard and blitz until it has the texture of fine breadcrumbs. In a separate bowl, mix the soured cream, vinegar and water then add to the flour and butter mix and just blitz until the mixture starts to come together (don’t overwork it). Turn out onto a floured surface and bring together into a smooth ball. Wrap in cling film then chill for at least 30 mins.

Heat the oven to 200C/ Gas 6. Brush the rim of your pie dish with the beaten egg, then fill the dish with the butter chicken and drizzle the spiced butter all over the surface. Roll out the pastry in a circle big enough to cover the pie dish, then lay over the top of the dish, crimping the edges to seal and trim off any surplus pastry to neaten the edges. Cut a small cross in the middle to let the steam out during cooking and make some pastry leaves with any pastry offcuts.

Brush all over with the rest of the egg glaze then pop in the fridge for 10 minutes.During that 10 minutes, make the lime pickle glaze by mixing the pickle with 2 tbsp. boiling water and the sugar. Set aside.

Bake the pie for 40 mins then brush all over with the lime pickle glaze and bake for 15 mins more. Serve garnished with the chilli (dipped in a little oil to make it glisten) and a few coriander leaves.

 Mue’s Chai Latte Choc Chip Muffins (and some variations)

When I asked Mue for the recipe she had to quantify her instincts on ingredients, (and thanks for leaving out the eggs first time round missus) but the results were judged by those who ate them as ‘the best they have ever had’. I have slightly adjusted the recipe, using chai latte mix instead of masala chai and used my favourite buttermilk instead of sour cream. (makes 12 generous muffins)

Ingredients:

3.5 cups flour (about 350g) plain flour

3 tbsp. baking powder

1 tbsp chai latte powder

Pinch kosher salt

125g butter, melted

200g sugar

2 tbsp. Coconut oil, melted

2 tsp vanilla

2 cups buttermilk and maybe a tbsp of milk

2 eggs

1 50g packet of chocolate chips plus a few extra for serving

For the streusel topping: 

20g plain flour

10g sugar

10g butter

1 tsp. Chai latte powder

How to make

Heat the oven to 220C/ Gas 7-8. Line a 12 cup muffin tin with muffin holders (I like the tulip-shaped ones in the photo). 

In a large bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, sugar, chai latte powder and salt. In separate bowl mix the melted, cooled butter and coconut oil with the beaten eggs, Buttermilk, splash of milk (1 tbsp) and the vanilla paste. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix with a wooden spoon until a thick, gloopy consistency. Add a little more milk if the mix is too stiff. You want it not quite falling off your spoon. Then fold in the chocolate chips. 

In a third bowl, rub the butter into the flour until you have fine breadcrumbs then mix in the sugar and chai latte. 

Fill the muffin cups evenly (about 2 tbsp. Mix per cup), then top with the streusel and pop in the oven, turning the heat down immediately to 180C/ Gas 5. Bake for 30 mins until a skewer comes out clean from the centre, then remove from the oven and dot each muffin with a few more chocolate chips cool and serve. 

Variations

For Blueberry muffins, omit the chai latte powder and choc chips and stir in 3 oz fresh blueberries into the muffin mix. Bake as before. 

For Apple, Pecan and Golden Syrup muffins. Melt 2 tbsp golden syrup with the butter and coconut oil, then add all the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients as before. Fold in 1 grated apple and 50g coarsely chopped pecans into the muffin mix then bake as before. Dot each muffin with a few more chopped pecans when out of the oven and before they cool. 

Mue and Cherie’s Ugly Green Juice

This is the colour of verdigris but tastes delightful. Just shut your eyes and drink (or colour match with your nail polish, like here). 

Ingredients: 

½ cup frozen strawberries

2 tsp acai berry powder or lingonberry powder

2 tsp Splenda or Stevia sweetener

4 tsp. Spirulina

1-2 Cups nut milk (try to get a nice think consistency, so start with 1 cup and add more to taste

How to Make

Put all your ingredients into a blender, blitz till smooth and serve. 

It’s that simple.

[thesummoningdark]

Okay, while I love everything you write I think for the DVD commentary I'd like a behind-the-scenes look into chapter 3 of At the Edge of the World. The entire fic is lush and gorgeous but I'm a sucker for the bits where Goody and Sam interact, and with the easy, sure steadiness that Billy brings to this experience that's so harrowing for Goody and would love your additional thoughts on either/both. -The Anon Formerly Known As Thrillingest

So this took forever. I’m happy to do more of these DVD commentaries (you can hit me up over on my writing sideblog!) if anyone’s interested, but I’d appreciate it if any further requests are for scenes rather than whole chapters. A chapter takes too long to do.

Anyway, answer below the cut~

When I originally set out to write this fic, the first neural handshake was what I’d actually been prompted to write (as a christmas present for @b-r-a-h iirc). It grew and took on a life of its own in the writing, but even so, that one scene was always going to make or break the whole fic. I spent a lot of time working on getting it just right.

It’s late enough by the time he finally leaves the kwoon that he doesn’t expect to find Sam in his office; he hesitates before going looking for him at all. But the prospect of another night stewing is unbearable. He doesn’t trust himself not to have lost his nerve by morning if he doesn’t commit to this now.

The shatterdome is quiet as he makes his way through. The overhead lights, motion-activated, flare one by one as he passes and settle into a steadily glowing trail behind him. It does nothing to quiet the sick unease simmering under his skin, feeling painfully exposed as his footsteps echo loudly in the silence of the bare corridors. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say. He can’t shake the conviction that there’s no choice he can make here which won’t turn out to have been a horrible mistake.

I was very pleased with the description of the shatterdome late at night, of how the quiet makes Goody feel so much more exposed and on edge. This opening part of the chapter was all about really showing his unease and how trapped he feels by the situation.

He hesitates in front of Sam’s door. Raises his hand; lowers it again.

He takes a deep breath, swears, and knocks.

These two lines work very well as punctuation to the scene, I think, slowing things down and underlining Goody’s hesitation. The short, sharp phrases are very different from how I normally write prose from Goody’s point of view - it’s actually a lot more like how I’d write Billy, oddly enough - but I like the sense it gives of these jerky, aborted movements and Goody second-guessing himself.

There are a few endless moments of silence before the sounds of movement emerge faintly from the other side of the door, a few muffled thumps and the quiet shuffle of footsteps. Goody hears the hollow clunk of the lock sliding back, but somehow it still startles him when the door swings open, his heart in his throat as he takes a step back and meets Sam’s tired eyes.

“I’ll do it,” he says in a rush before Sam can ask why he’s here. Sam regards him solemnly for a long moment before nodding.

“Good.”

“…I have some conditions,” Goody clarifies in a more measured tone, something sick and shocked crawling feverishly over the back of his neck as the magnitude of what he’s just agreed to tries to sink in. He pushes it away.

Sam sighs, and glances up and down the corridor before stepping aside. “Why don’t you come in.”

Writing this fic was the first time I really got to write interactions between Sam and Goody, and honestly, at first it was a little intimidating. Their conversation in the first chapter was the first time I’d ever written Sam period. I pretty much wrote this fic sequentially from start to finish, so by this point I was a lot more comfortable in their dynamic. I really love the ease between them, the sense of history in how well they know each other. A lot goes unspoken in their conversations because of it.

The Marshall’s quarters are larger than most others in the shatterdome, designed with the thought in mind that the occupant would be entertaining visiting dignitaries and the like. Still, it would take an impressive stretch of the definition to call any of the living quarters homey, and Sam’s have a certain barren neatness about them that speaks of a man who doesn’t own enough to clutter them, or spend enough time there to generate other mess. It’s very clearly a space where someone comes to sleep, not to live; there’s a distinct lack of personal touches. Save one.

Tacked to the back of the door is a single photo, unframed and a touch singed along one side, depicting a laughing family. Goody looks at it for a long moment before lowering his eyes out of some vestigial sense of respect. They all have their ghosts.

He sits on one of the spartan sofas, his gaze catching on the neat stacks of files spread out over the coffee table. Some he can identify; repair and maintenance records, duty reports, cadet evaluations. Others he doesn’t recognise at all. It’s truly startling, the amount of paperwork an organisation like the PPDC can generate in a day. “Has no-one ever told you it’s unhealthy to bring your work home with you?” he asks lightly. Sam snorts.

Some nice little set-dressing pieces of characterisation for Sam here. It doesn’t come up in any detail, but I imagine that he would have lost his family in a kaiju attack sometime before meeting Goody/joining the PPDC. That very clear sense of what he’s fighting for and why is something I consider to be pretty central to Sam’s character. I like having the old family photo there as a nod to his backstory - it crops up in the polyamory fill from KTT as well.

His room being fairly spartan is another hint at his character - very focused, all business - but it also handily doubles as a way of reinforcing the uncomfortable nature of Goody’s situation. The scene just wouldn’t feel quite the same if Sam’s quarters were cosy and welcoming.

“You mentioned conditions,” he says, sitting down opposite Goody and reaching for a gently steaming mug.

“Privacy,” Goody replies without hesitation. “And for it to be kept quiet. I’d rather not have an audience for this. And what a failed handshake would do to morale is the last thing the shatterdome needs right now.”

“We can arrange that,” Sam says, giving a nod, and Goody hadn’t even realised he was anticipating a fight until suddenly the tension is flowing out of him at the easy agreement. He sighs and sinks a little deeper into the sofa, scrubbing a weary hand over his face. Some part of him had half been hoping for an argument, for a refusal, but…here they are. For better or for worse, this is happening.

“For the record,” he says, “I’m still not convinced this is going to work.”

Sam considers him for a long moment. “So why agree?”

“Because…” Goody shakes his head, swallowing the sudden bitter taste at the back of his throat, some choking tightness wrapping around his chest. “Because in six months or a year, some green pilot pair riding a shaky drift are going to die in that damn jaeger.” He can see it clear as day from inside and out. The alarms screaming in the red-lit cockpit, the searing shock of the connection being violently severed; the roar of chaos over the radio back in the LOCCENT before everything goes abruptly, horribly silent. “I don’t need another what if to carry around.”

It was important to me in writing the first half of this fic to really work through Goody’s motivations: why he’s initially reluctant, and why he ultimately agrees. The progression from wanting to run from this to being willing to stand and fight even knowing how it’s likely to end for him is a parallel to canon I really wanted to keep. In a way this whole fic is about how he comes to that decision in this particular universe.

“I know the feeling,” Sam says quietly.

Goody gives him a thin, exhausted ghost of a grin. “Remember when we were young and bold and going to live forever?”

Sam snorts and shakes his head. “No.”

Have I mentioned that I really enjoyed writing their interactions?

Perhaps unsurprisingly he doesn’t sleep well that night. He can feel the enormity of the decision he’s just committed to hanging over him, a frozen tidal wave poised to come crashing down if he dares acknowledge it. He dozes restlessly and wakes often to the lingering claws of formless nightmares, a cold sweat on his skin and his heart beating too fast in his chest, fighting his way free of tangled sheets in a panic. The darkness of his quarters is heavy and close.

He finally gives up on sleep entirely sometime before dawn. A few of the night shift are haunting corners of the mess hall; he keeps his head down so as to not inadvertently provoke a conversation through eye contact as he pours himself a coffee and walks out again with tin mug in hand. On autopilot his feet carry him to the gantry behind the loading docks. The ocean is invisible somewhere in the inky blackness below, the steady crash of breaking waves drifting up out of the darkness. The wind plucks at his coat and snatches away the smoke from his cigarette as he exhales, watching clouds scud by above in the pale moonlight.

Slowly the sky starts to lighten, dawn breaking somewhere behind the clouds. Goody flicks away the spent end of his cigarette, sighs, and heads back inside.

I always enjoy writing Goody alone with his thoughts. As I’ve said before, writing from his point of view makes it easy to lend a poetic bent to the prose, and in this kind of context you end up with this lovely evocative melancholy air. Especially when coupled with the imagery of the cold, stormy sea that crops up so much in this fic.

He considers breakfast for token moment, but even the thought of food has the knots in his stomach tightening nauseously; he drops his empty mug off in the slowly-filling mess hall and instead traces the familiar path up to the kwoon. A few diligent souls are already warming up beside the sparring mat. Goody does his best to ignore them as he skirts the opposite edge of the kwoon and makes his way to the door of the attached office.

Billy is sitting at his desk, an empty mess hall tray by his elbow and a mess of papers spread out in front of him. A hint of surprise flickers across his expression as Goody enters.

“Twice in as many days?” He raises his eyebrows. “Did you make some kind of late new year’s resolution?”

Billy’s sense of humour delights me. It’s something we only really see brief glimpses of in canon, but I’ve really enjoyed fleshing it out a little more in writing him. It’s an interesting contrast to Goody, who tends to use a self-deprecating sort of humour to deflect; Billy uses humour in a more pointed way.

Goody chooses not to dignify that with a response. He takes a moment to close the door behind him before taking a deep breath and saying with no preamble, “I agreed to it.”

There’s a drawn out moment of silence.

“…you talked to Chisholm already?” Billy asks, carefully noncommittal. His expression is unreadable.

“Yes.” Goody pauses, his gaze dropping a little as he considers his next words. “….I’ve asked for it to be kept quiet.”

There’s the soft rush of a sigh from the other side of the table, followed by the creak of a chair; Goody glances up to see Billy standing. He circles around and twitches the blinds aside to look out into the kwoon.

“You still don’t think this is going to work,” he says.

Goody gives a small shrug. “I’d rather be prepared if it doesn’t.”

“And if it does?”

Even before they ever actually drift, Billy and Goody know each other very well, and it comes through in the way they talk to each other. Especially about important things. There’s a lot that goes unspoken because it’s already understood. They get straight to the point..which would be the case anyway, I think, but it’s particularly pronounced here because Goody is still in that mode of powering through as much of this as he can before he loses his nerve.

Something icy crawls down Goody’s spine. It seems a touch ridiculous, now he suddenly has cause to admit it aloud, but he honestly hadn’t given any thought to what would come next if they were successful. He hadn’t seriously entertained the possibility that they might be.

If somehow, against all reason and experience this works, if they make it through the joint drop sims and every other test and barrier between them and that conn pod…he’ll be a pilot again. He’ll be back out there facing the kaiju. Just the thought is enough to have the sick stirrings of panic clawing their way up his throat.

It made sense to me that, being so caught up in all the ways the handshake could go wrong and what happens if it does, Goody hadn’t even stopped to seriously consider the possibility that it might succeed, much less think about what he’ll do if it does. He can’t let himself think about what happens if they succeed, because that’s the only outcome worse than failure. If trying to drift again is bad, trying to pilot again is so much worse. He’s found himself backed into a catch-22 where there’s no good outcome, and a lot of what I was trying to do with the first half of this chapter was to really get across his sense of dread.

A firm hand lands on his shoulder and he starts, blinking wide-eyed at Billy, who’s suddenly beside him. His expression is calm, but there’s a spark of something in his eyes that Goody doesn’t know how to read; something implacable and determined, something fierce enough to be alien after so long without allowing himself the luxury of hope.

“Goody,” he says, steady and certain in a way that brooks no disagreement. “We’ll figure it out.”

Goody takes a deep, steadying breath and gives a shaky nod. Billy’s right. What happens will happen, and while he may lack Billy’s confidence that they’ll be equal to whichever challenge comes of it, he can’t let himself get tangled up in anticipating it when it’s going to take everything he has just to get through what’s coming next.

The next few days are nothing but the gnawing unease of anticipation, part of him desperate to have this over and done with, another hopelessly wishing he could put it off indefinitely. It’ll be a relief for it to be over, even if he already knows that relief will be tainted with an old, familiar kind of shame. But to get it over with, he has to get through it, and some nagging voice at the back of his mind is constantly whispering that maybe he can’t. He doesn’t know if he has another handshake left in him. He’s so, so tired of wondering every time if this trip down the rabbit hole will be the one that finally breaks him.

It’s not something I chose to dig into a lot in this fic, but this paragraph right here is actually a very important insight into where Goody’s at in this place in time. It’s not that he doesn’t want to move on from the trauma of losing his copilot, or that he couldn’t do it under the right circumstances, but he’s trapped in this cycle of having to relive it and be traumatised anew every time he tries to enter the drift. He’s in this limbo space where he wants to move on but he can’t. He’s not being allowed to.

In a way, his psychological situation parallels his real life one very neatly. He’s not a pilot any more, but his experience is too useful to waste, so he’s still a part of a jaeger program. The fight his copilot died in was a long time ago, but he can’t heal from it when he’s still having to relieve it. Both leave him in a situation where he can’t do anything to help himself where he is, but he can’t distance himself either.

More than anything else in those achingly empty days, he finds himself seeking out Billy’s company. Perhaps it’s a good sign that the undemanding quiet of Billy’s presence steadies him in a way that not much that doesn’t come in a bottle can these days. But some darker, more pessimistic part of him can’t help but wonder if this is nothing but him savouring the last days of this friendship while he can, before the handshake ruins it.

He feels a pang of guilt for it, occasionally. It seems disloyal even to entertain the thought that Billy wouldn’t be better than that. But he can’t bring himself to believe that anyone could be exposed to the wreckage of his subconscious, and not want to do the smart thing and distance themselves. Lord knows he would if he could.

This comes up a lot in writing their relationship from Goody’s point of view: that he feels it’s a disservice to Billy to think that their relationship is on such a shaky foundation, but he still can’t help but be afraid of it.

The few days they spend waiting seem to last an eternity. But when word finally comes that LOCCENT are ready for them, the only thought in Goody’s head is that an eternity wouldn’t be long enough to let him be ready for this.

The solid warmth of Billy’s shoulder against his is a comfort he desperately needs as they walk into the drivesuit room side by side to be met by a skeleton crew of technicians. He hasn’t set foot in this part of the shatterdome since that last disastrous failed handshake; just the familiar smell of relay gel and oiled metal is enough to have his heart beating faster, a slight tremor shaking through his hands.

Generally it’s a more relaxed process, preparing for a handshake. In a combat drop there would be alarms blaring, the countdown displayed on every screen, running out the seven minutes they have after an event to get into the cockpit and be ready to launch. There’s none of that time pressure here. No rush, although the technicians pride themselves on their speed and efficiency even when it isn’t a matter of life and death. And yet he knows he’s never been this nervous before a combat drop, sick with the anticipation of what’s waiting for him in the conn pod.

He closes his eyes and tunes out the low murmurs of the technicians, clinging to a fragile sense of calm numbness as he lets himself be turned and posed and strapped into the drivesuit. At least there won’t be an audience. Sam has been true to his word about keeping it quiet, hand-picking staff he trusts to run LOCCENT and the drivesuit room, and choosing a time toward the end of the nightshift when the few people still awake will be tired and incurious. However badly this goes, at least he won’t have to deal with stares and whispers following him around the shatterdome for the next week.

The technician at his shoulder gives his backplate one last solid thump and steps away. He sighs, gathers what little courage he has left, and walks forward.

If he thought the drivesuit room was sickeningly familiar, it’s nothing beside the conn pod, the lights of the control panels and the waiting cradle of the command platform. For an endless moment he finds himself frozen in the doorway. He’s never set foot inside Widow Rose before - she was built long after his last drop, and quickly filled by a copilot pair of her own - but knowing that doesn’t help. It’s still horribly, achingly familiar.

Billy nudges his shoulder gently, startling him out of his reverie. He swallows down the pathetic part of him that wants so desperately to find some way, any way of delaying this even if only for a second, and gives a shaky nod. This is happening one way or another. The least he can do is face it with what little dignity he has left.

Obviously any writer’s work is informed by their own experiences, but for me, this part was a lot closer to the bone than most others. In this case I was drawing on my own memories of having to go through with crash escape/sea survival training despite having a massive phobia of water. That feeling of forcing yourself to go through with something you’re desperately afraid of, how badly you want to grab any chance to delay it just a little longer…it definitely stays with you.

“Breathe,” Billy says, low and even. “You’ll get through it.”

“Said the butcher to the cow,” Goody mutters.

Billy huffs a laugh. “I’ll make it quick and painless.”

Despite himself, he can’t help but be lulled a little by Billy’s easy calm, even as he feels a pitiful stab of envy for it. He gives a thin, tired ghost of a smile and nudges Billy’s shoulder lightly in return. If he always would have had to find himself here again, he’s glad at least that it’s Billy here with him. He doesn’t know that he could have faced it with anyone other than Billy by his side.

I really enjoy writing these little exchanges that show how easily they play off of each other, especially in stressful situations. And the lighter flashes of humour that come from their conversations were something the first half of this chapter really needed. 

Harness set for test mode is flashing on the screens as they strap themselves in. Goody’s hands are shaking badly enough to have him fumbling the controllers as he threads his fingers through them, sick unease prickling feverishly over the back of his neck and cold sweat crawling down his skin under the drivesuit. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming fast and shallow; lord only knows what his vitals readout in LOCCENT must look like.

“Pilots on board and ready to connect,” Teddy’s voice filters in tinnily over the comms. Goody sucks in a sharp breath.

“Steady,” Billy murmurs.

“Initiating neural handshake.”

This is mostly an inside joke, of course, but the thought of Teddy as Tendo makes me laugh.

For an endless moment there’s nothing but the visceral rush of sense memory, too quick and tangled to make any sense of, the sudden feeling of everyone opening and unfolding, of the mind flowing out into the space suddenly opened to it. He hears his mother’s voice, sees a fleeting glimpse of her face from a child’s low perspective. Somewhere behind it is another woman’s voice, words in a language he doesn’t speak but somehow understands. A sharp stab of unease; a man’s voice this time, abrupt and angry. Helpless frustration. Silence.

There’s a mirror in front of him and bruises on his face and the taste of blood in his mouth, and pain comes tearing up his flank, alarms blaring in the desperate red pulse of the conn pod emergency lighting, and in the last screaming moments he feels something snap with a brutal whiplash leaving behind nothing, nothing, nothing—

There’s a lot going on here. Some memories, like the image of the red-lit conn pod and the loss of a copilot, are very clearly Goody’s. but a lot of the rest don’t distinctly belong to one or the other - it was a conscious decision on my part to leave it ambiguous which memories are coming from who. I wanted to run with the idea that a flash of memory from one would pull up similar memories from the other, and they’d keep feeding into each other. 

Off the record, the start and the end are Goody, and the middle (everything from another woman’s voice to blood in his mouth) is Billy.

Except that there isn’t nothing. Under it all there’s something solid, an unexpected rock to cling to and keep his head above water while he gasps for air. Just the shock of it, of being caught when he expected to fall, is enough to snap him out of the inward spiral for a precious, fleeting moment. It’s so very little, an eye in the storm of crushing panic. But it’s enough for something warm and steady to wrap in around him, and push back the howling dark.

It’s not the panicked clawing he remembers, the fingers of a doomed attempt to reel him in frantically scrabbling to find purchase on his spiralling subconscious. Instead it’s a mere brush of a touch, nudging him back toward an even keel so gently he might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been waiting for it.

That sea/storm imagery coming up again here. That second paragraph was actually the first part of this scene I wrote, and it’s definitely something I wanted to run with for the whole thing: the idea that rather than trying to keep too tight a rein like previous candidates have tried and failed to do, Billy has a knack for gently nudging Goody at the right moments to keep him from spiralling.

“Billy?” he mumbles uncertainly, his voice cracking. He’s here in the conn pod, but no, the alarms are silent. The lights are a calm, steady blue. The only pain is sense memory.

“Breathe,” Billy says again, just as calm and steady as the lights. “I’ve got you.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and slowly exhales. The rabbit hole is right there, aching emptily like a missing tooth, but no sooner do his thoughts drift toward it than they’re steered in another direction; a flashing school of fish easily startled into darting off by a dark shape slowly cruising by below.

With every step he expects to fall. But the connection stays steady, grounding him in the here and now. The jaeger is alive under his hands, and now he’s not so tangled in the cobwebs of painful memory…she feels different from Aura Blue. Lighter. And Billy is right there with him every inch of the way as he slowly settles back into the old familiar feeling of a jaeger’s heart beating with his, filling the drift with the undemanding quiet he’s always associated with Billy’s presence.

I liked the idea that once he’s been steadied enough to stop that spiral before it starts, Goody actually can more or less keep a handle on himself. Once again that reference to a light touch rather than a tight rein comes up, with bonus sea imagery - a flashing school of fish easily startled into darting off by a dark shape slowly cruising by below.

There’s definitely a turning point here: it’s the first time we really see Goody start to focus in on new things, things that are different, rather than the ways in which he’s reminded of painful memories.

Also fun fact, it took me for-fucking-ever to settle on a name for Goody and Sam’s jaeger. In early drafts it was referred to as “Ash” as a placeholder. It was that deleted scene that came out with Goody at the piano which gave me the inspiration to finally pick an actual name for it.

Tentatively he reaches out, testing the shape of their connection. There’s satisfaction radiating from Billy, pride tinged with relief, and— there, sitting at the centre of it all so deceptively unassuming that he scarcely recognises it for what it is, the cold certainty of what this means for them.

His own fears are skittering things, slipping away when his thoughts land on them in daylight; leaving only trails of lingering unease behind until they creep back up on him in the silence of his bunk at night. He half expects this one to do the same, but it doesn’t.

You’re afraid too he thinks, the realisation distant and dazed. He can’t see Billy’s smile, but he feels it. Grim amusement. Fatalism. Acceptance.

This was something I really wanted to put front and centre when they drifted: the idea that Billy knows what this means for them just as well as Goody does, but they handle that knowledge so differently that Goody almost doesn’t recognise it for what it is. Goody is the kind of person who tries to ignore his fears until he can’t any more. He’s not well equipped to get his head around the way Billy can look this in the face and accept it.

Goody says you’re afraid too, but he still isn’t quite grasping it. Billy isn’t afraid of this. Not in the same way Goody is. He knows that stepping into that conn pod together ultimately means dying there, but in his mind, he’s already weighed up the possibility and decided that it’s worth the cost. To paraphrase the original Pacific Rim: they’re all going to die one way or the other. He’d rather die in a jaeger.

Goody hasn’t accepted the inevitability of his own mortality; he’s still caught up in wanting to put it off for as long as possible. Billy has. It’s more important to him to die for something worthwhile than to avoid it for a little longer. When you get right down to it, I think this is probably the most fundamental difference in who they are are people.

The readouts on the screens are all in the green, the conn pod humming around them. “Full alignment,” Teddy’s voice comes again over the comms, static crackling on the line. “Handshake holding steady.”

“Congratulations,” Sam adds. To anyone else he might sound perfectly professional, but Goody knows him well enough to know what ‘self-satisfied’ sounds like on him. He’s sure that the fond exasperation that suffuses the link is wholly his, but the answering flicker of amusement is definitely Billy’s.

There is honestly no interaction between Sam and Goody in this entire fic that I’m not delighted by. There’s always such a sense of history and familiarity between them.

The process of disconnecting and powering down passes in something of a daze. It’s been so long since the last time a handshake ended in anything other than a spiral and an emergency shutdown for him that distance has made the standard procedure unfamiliar. It’s calm, matter of fact; clearly routine for everyone present but him. He barely has the presence of mind to follow what’s happening.

Fortunately, little is required of him other than moving when he’s told. In some kind of stunned trance he allows himself to be led from the conn pod and methodically peeled out of the drivesuit, the murmurs of the technicians and the voices from LOCCENT filtering over the radio so much white noise in his ears. […] 

It honestly wasn’t until I hit the end of the neural handshake scene that it really dawned on me how long it would have been since Goody actually experienced a normal disconnection. It isn’t something we see in Pacific Rim either, so unlike the initial connection (most of the procedure for which I lifted directly from the movie), I didn’t have anything to go on. Fortunately under the circumstances it made sense for Goody to be in a bit of a daze, so I was spared the necessity of getting into specifics.

[…]Everything seems distant and hazy and unreal.

Everything apart from Billy.

It’s momentarily disorienting to turn and see Billy facing him when instinct insists that they should be moving as one. Billy tilts his head, considering; Goody notices himself mirroring the motion half a heartbeat after he does it, the two of them still half in sync as they ride out the echoes of the drift. His heart is still racing, hardly able to believe that they really did it. He hadn’t believed it could ever flow that smooth and easy again. After all this time he’d forgotten what it could be like to slip into a solid, comfortable connection.

They’re close, he realises belatedly; enough so to look odd to outside eyes. So soon after the handshake his instincts don’t even question that of course Billy belongs in his personal space as much as he does himself. A day ago he might have felt exposed under that searching gaze. Now it’s nothing but familiar.

This part got written out of order very early on as well. The image of them moving together, still half in sync, was something I had very clearly in my head when I set out to start writing this, and I wanted to get it down before it faded.

“You could have said something,” Billy says after a long pause.

There’s no point in pretending not to know exactly what he’s talking about. A flush creeps up Goody’s cheeks, but he doesn’t lower his eyes. “It never seemed like a good time,” he replies with a small shrug.

It’s strange to think how recently the idea of having every fleeting want and idle fantasy laid bare would have been mortifying. Here and now, still half in the drift, the idea that Billy knows seems as natural and unremarkable as admitting it to himself in the privacy of his own thoughts. There’s no unease, no knee-jerk revulsion. There’s nothing but slightly startled curiosity, and a trace of what might be cautious interest.

I toyed with a few different ways of approaching this conversation, but ultimately I decided that it would have to be very matter-of-fact. How could it be anything else, when they’ve just been inside each other’s heads? It’s not something that’s explicitly explored in Pacific Rim, but I figured that for a little while right after drifting successfully, you’d still be thinking of your copilot as essentially the same entity as you. 

As it says above, the idea that Billy knows seems as natural and unremarkable as admitting it to himself in the privacy of his own thoughts. It couldn’t work any other way, really, or the whole premise falls apart a little. They both know exactly what they’re talking about, how they both feel about it…the fact that Goody now knows beyond question that while startled Billy isn’t opposed to the idea is definitely helping him keep his cool.

One of the technicians clears her throat, breaking their shared reverie, unfazed as only a long-term drivesuit tech can be when their attention snaps to her in perfect unison. She informs them that the Marshal is expecting them for a debrief, and politely ejects them from the drivesuit room to make the walk to LOCCENT.

“I knew you had another one in you,” is the first thing Sam says, smiling broadly.

Goody huffs a laugh and lets himself be pulled into a hug. “We’ll see,” he replies, noncommittal. “One successful handshake doesn’t mean a combat-ready link.”

Sam shrugs. “We’ll schedule a joint drop sim tomorrow. In the meantime—” He gives a wry grin. “—why don’t you give me five damn minutes to enjoy something going right for once.”

“Yes sir,” Goody replies with an entirely spurious dutiful air, throwing a mock salute.

“Very funny,” Sam says, a hint of a smile curling the corner of his lips. “Go on, get out of here. Both of you. Sleep. You’ve earned it.”

I find something about the phrase politely ejects them inherently hilarious. I also enjoy the image of the techs being utterly unimpressed by all this drift bullshit just through sheer exposure wearing the mystique off of it.

As previously noted, I love writing Sam and Goody interacting, and it was particularly nice to write this conversation. It’s the first one in this fic where they’re both happy and relieved, and it gives it a much lighter feel.

The first hints of the shatterdome waking are starting to drift through the air around them as they make their way back down from LOCCENT; internal lights slowly brightening, footfalls and distant chatter in the air as the oncoming day shift begin the sleepy shuffle from quarters to showers to mess hall. No matter what else may be happening, the rhythm of shifts and rotations carries stubbornly on like the slow beat of some colossal heart.

They get a few glances and mumbled greetings in passing, but no-one seems to pay them much mind. After the last few days of aching uncertainty, it’s an indescribable relief to walk through the halls of the shatterdome with the weight of the handshake off of his mind, with the lingering echoes of Billy’s utter self-confidence bolstering him. It’s a relief to find himself not avoiding anyone’s eyes.

It doesn’t feel real yet. Part of him remains convinced that some other stumbling block up ahead will catch them out, that they’ll trip over a reason why it can’t work when they’re least expecting it. He doesn’t know if he’s afraid of it or hoping for it.

The theme of people coming together to form some joint entity greater than the sum of its parts is, of course, a powerful recurring theme in Pacific Rim. It’s most overt in the copilot pairs, but I wanted to throw in these occasional reminders that even the jaegers themselves are just one part of the greater entity that is the shatterdome itself.

The end of this chapter is probably the lightest and most hopeful in tone of any part of the fic, but Goody is definitely still unsure if he’s really prepared for what success means for them. He doesn’t want to have to go back out there and fight. 

“You’re still not sure about this, are you,” Billy says aloud.

Goody gives a small shrug. “As I said to Sam, compatibility doesn’t necessarily mean a link stable enough for combat.” Keeping the drift steady in the calm, controlled environment of a test handshake is a very different thing to maintaining it under the stress and demanding neural load of combat.

“Tell me you don’t think I can hold it,” Billy says, flat and matter of fact. Goody sighs.

“No,” he says. “No, when you put it like that, I suppose I don’t doubt that you can.”

One of my favourite things about Goody and Billy’s relationship, the thing which drew me to them in the first place, is how much trust there is between them. Goody still isn’t sure that he can do this, but he believes completely that Billy can. And he’s willing to trust that Billy can steady him when he needs it.

As I think I’ve mentioned in previous replies, I do struggle with ending chapters sometimes. In this fic I actually did it differently to how I normally would: I wrote most of the fic as if it was a one-shot, and then went back and divided it up into chapters based on where it felt natural to pause. It was a much easier way of doing it, and I think the transitions from one chapter to the next after are definitely improved by it.

#Anonymous #claire writes a thing #ask meme #the anon formerly known as thrilling

[dagoonite]

Good People

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”  Buttons gave a sheepish chuckle, shrugging a shoulder.

“Then you took out that mind-controlling fucker.”  Heather’s voice was approving, even if Tanya couldn’t see her face from the other side of the campfire.  “Fan-fucking-tastic!”

He chuckled again before rising to his feet.  “Anyway, I’m, uh, going to go to the bushes.”

“Yell if you need anything,” Tanya murmured, not looking up from her gun.

As Buttons moved away, Heather leaned towards the fire.  “You know, I don’t think that thing’s going to get any cleaner.”

“Maybe.”

“Trying to see your reflection in it or something?”

Tanya sighed.  “It used to be red.  Not, like, paint or anything, it just...  The metal, the wood, it all used to be red.  Not so much no more.  Trying to get it there again.”

“Fair enough.”  Heather hesitated.  “You know, I’m surprised that you’re keeping Butts around.”

That made Tanya look up, adjusting her glasses.

“Just saying, you know?  After that, uh, interrogation--”

“Torture,” Tanya hissed quietly.  “Let’s not beat ‘round the bush.  That was straight-up torture.”

“Yeah, but they were raiders.  They had it coming.”  Heather sighed.  “I just...  He’s such a naive goodie-goodie, and you know what it takes to get raiders to talk.  It’s just kind of surprising that you’d want to keep him around.”

“It’s ‘cos he’s a goodie,” Tanya said with a shrug, looking back down to the gun.  “That make sense?”

There was a long pause before Heather leaned back.  “Not at all.”

Tanya closed her eyes.  This was going to be difficult, wasn’t it.  “Listen.  I ain’t much of a trader.  That’s why we’re together, so I could learn by watchin’.  I ain’t even much of a scavver, and I know it.  What I am good at is killin’ any fuckface I put my head to, an’ that’s the kind of life that gets you killed sooner than later, yeah?”

“Live by the sword and die by the sword,” Heather mused to herself.

“‘xactly.  But you know what else I ain’t?  A good person.”

Heather scoffed.  “Oh, bullshit.  You bend over backwards to help out Zimonja.  Hell, after that scouting by the Gunners, you even took out an outpost to send a message to them!”

“A good person don’t bite off someone’s fingers, then spit them back in their face.”

“They do to raiders!”

Tanya lifted her eyes, focusing them on Heather’s outline.  “Don’t gotta be raiders.  Don’t care who you is, if you got info that I want, that sorta shit is the first thing I think of doin’.  Caravaners, settlers, guards, anyone.  I want info, I make you scream ‘till you give it.”

Heather didn’t say anything.  Good.

“Now, Buttons, an’ call him Buttons, he don’t like Butts none.  Buttons, he’s squeamish.  He’s the sorta guy that needs folks like you ‘n me, folks who know he’ll get taken if someone ain’t watchin’ him.  Vault kids like him never was too good at tellin’ the good from the bad out here.  He’s got more of a head on ‘im than most, but he’s still got that raw... niceness to him.  Do what needs done, whimper and cry later.  Hate ‘imself each step, but know that he’s doin’ the right thing, you know?”

“Yeah,” Heather said softly.  “I think I get you.”

“Now, not bein’ a good person don’t bother me, but knowin’ how not to be a not good person’s gonna help me go farther than if I just go making enemies.  I don’t gotta be good, but I gotta know when breakin’, or bitin’, fingers isn’t the best urge ta follow.  I can’t do dat on my own, I need someone ta look at, see how they react, you know?”

Heather was silent for a long moment.  “Can I offer another rebuttal?”

Tanya huffed as she set Old Red aside and nabbed an empty magazine to load.  “Wazzat mean?”

“What, rebuttal?  Uh...  Like, I want to argue that you’re not a good person again.”

Somehow, Tanya doubted that she’d get out of this if she didn’t let her.  “Fine.”

“Samantha.  Captain Frank asked you to talk to her, and she seemed scared.  But by the time that you got done, she was relaxed.  Then you talked to Captain Frank, and he seemed to be more...  I dunno, welcoming of her.”

Tanya flared her nostrils.  “Raiders get what’s comin’ to ‘em, yeah?”

“Right.”

“What about ex-raiders?”  When Heather didn’t say anything, Tanya continued.  “We all got shadows, shit we don’t want in the light.  Samantha, she used ta be a raider.  Plain and simple, used to be one a the people we axe.  But she stopped.  She’s tryin’ ta settle down, help the settlement.  Make a new life for herself.  One that ain’t a raider.  It fair to ruin her new life as she gets her feet under her?”

Heather was silent for a long moment.  “Raiders don’t change, Tanya.  What happens when she turns on them?”

Wolf lifted his head, and Tanya laid a gentle hand between his ears.  “Well.  That be a long, long day that she wishes ended with fingers.”  She turned her head as Buttons walked back in.  “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.  What did I miss?”

“Was talkin’ ‘bout my favorite bloatfly dinner.”

He shuddered as he settled back down.  “Yeah, I’ll pass, thanks.”

Tanya snorted.  “Nah, see, you just never had it cooked right.  See, first thing you do is you get the biggest pot you can...”

#Tanya the Scavver #OC #Fallout 4

[acetokens]

The Curse of the Vampire: My thoughts on MUA3′s first DLC

Today I wanna talk about the first DLC expansion pack for MUA3: The Curse of The Vampire! Because I can’t contain my hype for this any longer, I have to ramble about it and you can’t stop me.

This post will probably be stupid long, so its all under the cut!

The Curse of the Vampire is MUA3’s biggest update so far, and its first paid DLC update. It released just in time for spooky month, so naturally the entire thing is Halloween themed. Every player will be able to sink their teeth into a new story mode difficulty, ‘Nightmare’, where enemies affected by a vampiric curse will appear, as well as accessing the SHIELD Depot, where you can purchase various costumes and items for SHIELD Tokens. The update raised the level cap from 100 to 150 and added extra sections to the Alliance Enhancement Grid, both of which can be used to further strengthen your heroes. For Season Pass holders, you can also unlock four new characters: Blade, Punisher, Moon Knight and Morbius, through the new ‘Gauntlet Mode’, where you take on challenges in a loop of ever increasing difficulty to get rewards.

There was radio silence from the devs leading up to the release of the DLC, so my hopes weren’t high. But I was really happy to wake up on the 30th September to see the massive amount of content we received! Because there’s so much to unpack here, I want to talk about each new feature one at a time, starting with the most hyped up part of the update!

The Characters

I’ve never been a big fan of The Marvel Knights, but I was really pleased to see most of them had something unique to distinguish them from other heroes and I had fun trying them all out!

Punisher is, of course, based around using his huge arsenal of guns. His stats are horrible, like all ranged characters, but he makes up for it with his surprisingly good evasive abilities, as he can shoot his guns or throw grenades whilst strafing left, right or backwards to avoid attacks. Punisher’s sniper rifle is also incredibly deadly, and feels so satisfying to land, especially on those AIM snipers in Wakanda. Punisher feels like the kind of character where you have to play very tactically to win with, which makes him the one I enjoyed playing as the most out of the four.

Morbius gets KO’d fast because of his poor defensive stats, but he absolutely rips apart enemy health bars. Not only does he have high strength and can increase his damage output with Fangs and Claws but he can also lower his foes’ defence with Hypnotic Gaze. The combination is absolutely terrifying. He can also heal himself by biting his enemies, as a vampire should. Playing as him is very fun because you deal so much damage its’ just obnoxious. He’s like Hulk on steroids.

Moon Knight is the most unoriginal character of the four in terms of playstyle, which is a shame. All of his abilities are identical in use to those from other characters, with the only unique feature of Moon Knight is his ability to glide, which is a more situational version of flight. His crescent kick and EX are also visually impressive. I think Moon Knight is the definition of ‘basic but practical’. He has the least impressive moveset of the four new characters but he’s also the only one who didn’t get KO’d when I ran through Nightmare Mode with them all, so he’s a solid unit.

Blade has the unique ability to charge all of his abilities to make them stronger. While charging he can move around (albeit slowly) and you can even switch to a different attack mid-charge. At first I found Blade the least enjoyable to play because of how slow he felt and how often he’d get interrupted by the enemy before he had a chance to do anything. But with the right items equipped, I found Blade significantly more fun, and seeing him stalk around the stage, charging up and waiting for a chance to strike was undeniably awesome.

Something I also noticed is that currently the characters’ traits are incorrect. It doesn’t say Blade can use elements, but he can. It doesn’t say Punisher has the super strength trait, but he does. And it says Morbius has a passive healing factor, but he doesn’t. I hope this gets addressed next patch.

The Story & The Enemies

I don’t think I was the only one who felt disappointed when the ‘new story content’ we were promised turned out to just be another difficulty option. After clearing the campaign four times already I wasn’t too motivated to do it a fifth time, but I did it anyway, and I have mixed feelings on it overall.

Disappointingly, Nightmare Mode has no treasure chests or infinity trials to discover and you get no reward for completing it. Its purpose is ultimately just to be a place for players who haven’t purchased the season pass to fight the new vampire enemies and collect SHIELD tokens. Despite that, I did have fun playing through Nightmare. The enemy’s stats rapidly increase in this difficulty more than the rest, starting at level 40 and rising all the way to level 90 by the last stage! Not only that, the new vampiric enemies (Reborn, Infected and Cursed) add an extra layer of strategy to combat, forcing you to adapt your tactics and your team pretty often.

The Reborn come in many different types, each with unique buffs that make them harder to defeat than standard enemies. They might slow you down or poison you if you get too close, heal nearby enemies, magnetically pull you towards them, inflict the damage they take back onto you, explode after being defeated etc. There are also Infected, which may return as Reborn after being defeated (and can Infect you, which will make you rapidly lose HP until cured), and Cursed, which will cure all Infected of their disease when taken down. Its hard to remember all of this at first, but once you’ve memorized what each of the enemy types do it makes Nightmare Mode much more enjoyable in a uniquely challenging way, especially in boss battles.

I do wish we’d gotten a brand new story mode chapter instead though.

The Gauntlets

I expected Gauntlet Mode to be a never-ending wave of enemies, but I was pleasantly surprised to find it was a lot more innovative and enjoyable. Gauntlet Mode is split into three phases, each with 4-6 Gauntlets. In each Gauntlet, a series of trials must be completed one after another, with the added caveat being that you cannot change your characters or items mid-Gauntlet, and (aside from after completing certain trials) your HP will not recover. After completing a Gauntlet once, you can challenge it again, and this time it will become an Endless Gauntlet where the trials will loop continuously and get harder each time, only ending when you give up or your team is defeated.

Like Nightmare Mode, Gauntlet Mode starts easy and gets progressively more difficult. The first Gauntlet is only level 5 and includes 3 trials, whereas the last Gauntlet is level 120 and includes 10 trials! I must be sounding like a broken record by now but this is the hardest challenge in the game. Gauntlet Mode really puts your endurance to the test, pitting you against continuous waves and bosses, many of which are Reborn, Infected or Cursed, all while under difficult conditions. Many of the optional challenges are also deliberately designed so that they are only achievable on an Endless run, meaning if you want those sweet rewards you have to clear the Gauntlet two, three or even four times in a row without quitting or losing.

I haven’t fully completed Gauntlet Mode just yet. I managed to get 4-stars on all Gauntlets in phase 1 and 2 without much effort due to my over-levelled characters, but on phase 3 the difficulty rose quite considerably. I had to start thinking very carefully about what characters and items I took into the Gauntlet, and I can’t exaggerate enough how incredibly hard Endless can get on these high level Gauntlets after a few loops. There’s a reason they give you 99 revives on Condition: Terminal. They expect you to die. A lot.

Overall, Gauntlet is pretty great! It offers a lot more variety than Infinity Trials, which is perfect if you’re using it to grind or farm items, and phase 3’s Gauntlets are the ideal test of skill and patience for players who enjoy a challenge. That being said, the load times between the trials can be tedious, and the difficulty isn’t for everyone. But I really enjoy Gauntlet Mode, and it’s my favorite part of the expansion!

The Store

The most unexpected part of the update for me was the new SHIELD Depot. Here, you can spend the SHIELD Tokens you collect in Nightmare and Gauntlet Modes for goodies, including new costumes for Black Panther, Captain America, Iron Man and Thor for 400 tokens each. You can also buy voice lines (which I believe may accidentally hint to future DLC characters) and items, some of which are very expensive at 10,000 tokens but look powerful. My favorite part of the Depot is that you can use Credits to buy XP cubes. Up until this point, Credits have been a useless currency. You can spend them to upgrade your items or enhance your alliance, but the sheer rate that you acquire credits means you end up sitting on a pile of 80,000,000 with nothing to spend it on, and that’s not a exaggeration. With this update, my mountain of Credits can finally be put to good use! I bought over 2,000 XP cubes and used them to level up my lesser used characters, so that felt pretty good.

I think the SHIELD Depot is a nice addition to the game, but I am slightly concerned how it will be affected by future updates. Will all future costumes be available for purchase there? If so, does that mean we have to play Gauntlet and Nightmare over and over to get the SHIELD Tokens needed to buy them, since that currency can’t be found anywhere else? I really hope not...

Other Changes

The expansion also made big changes to the level cap and the Alliance Enhancement Grid. Heroes can now reach the lofty heights of level 150, which is absolutely insane. Previously difficult trials like the New Brotherhood and Ultimate Alliance of Evil become a total cakewalk when you’re that overpowered, so anyone willing to put the grinding hours in will be well rewarded. My teams are currently around level 115-125, so I still have a way to go before I hit the new level cap, but I want to reach that stage before I try to 4-star the last phase of Gauntlet Mode because I think I’m gonna need it.

The Alliance Enhancement Grid has also been extended with new upgrades now available. They cost a lot of AEP, but the ones that allow you to heal by attacking stunned enemies are very helpful for Gauntlet Mode. I was close to finishing the original AEG (literally just 7 nodes away from obtaining every upgrade in the game) so my first reaction was: ‘’Damn, I should’ve saved my AEP for this’’. But luckily, the update also added the option to spend void spheres to reset the AEG and refund all AEP spent on it, so you can edit your upgrades. No more buyers remorse! This is one of the features I’ve had on my wishlist for a while so I’m happy they implemented this feature!

Finishing Thoughts

The Curse of the Vampire is a great first expansion for MUA3 overall. It has its let-downs, but it really surpassed my expectations with the amount of new content it contained, and sets the standard for the future expansions pretty high. One thing I am confused by, however, is that they mentioned in a tweet that ‘’players will be able to discover a new Infinity Rift’’. Despite all the new stuff included in the update, an Infinity Rift wasn’t one of them, which gets me thinking: Is this particular expansion really finished? I think we may receive another update on the 31st October, which includes that Rift as well as some spooky costumes. Maybe some free characters as well? Although that might be too optimistic.

Taking my tinfoil hat off for a moment, we know for a fact the next expansion will drop in late 2019 and include characters and features from the X-Men. This is the one I’ve been looking forward to. This is X-23’s (extremely slim) chance to make it in. More than anything else, that’s what I’m wishing for out of the next expansion. Although even if she doesn’t get included, I think if the next update includes as much content as this one, I’ll be more than happy with it.

#MUA3 shitposting #I've been writing this review for like two weeks. #Its 2k words longer than necessary #But I really wanted to talk about this!! #And I really hope the next expansion is as good as this one. Or better!

[totallymotorbikes]

Church Of MO First Ride: 2003 BMW R1200CL You know what’s funny? Calvin Kim posits, in his 2003 First Ride review of the BMW R1200CL, that people would end up buying this bike. Nevermind the, uh, ugly aesthetics, the R1200 backbone of BMW’s cruiser would be sure to persuade unorthodox cruiser riders that it was the way forward. Well, as history has taught us, there aren’t as many unorthodox cruiser riders as BMW hoped, and the R1200CL is remembered as a flop. Ugliness aside, read on to find out Kim’s overall positive view of the CL. And if you’re looking for a few more pictures, you can check out the photo gallery. First Ride: 2003 BMW R1200CL Luxury Cruising, or Cruising Luxuriously By Calvin Kim Apr. 20, 2003Photos by MO and BMW NA Biltmore Estate, North Carolina, September 3, 2002 — When BMW came out with the R1200C five years ago, a lot of people raised eyebrows. Everybody knew how rough and tumble the cruiser industry was back then. It still is pretty hot if you think about it. Nevertheless, amidst the skepticism the C took off and has proved a success for BMW. In fact, the C has become so successful that BMW has produced four different variations of the beast. Now, at the new-model intro at the Biltmore Inn in North Carolina the CL makes five. Trying to capture another segment of the burgeoning cruiser market, BMW has decided to enter into the decidedly slower pace of the “cruising-tourer” or is that “touring-cruiser”? Regardless, what we have here is essentially a heavily modified C cruiser outfitted with BMWs best touring goodies. Integral ABS, lockable saddlebags and removable top-case, cruise control and, of course, those famous heated grips all come standard on the CL model. Upgrade to the CLC (Custom) model, and you get heated seats for two and a radio replete with a CD player. Unfortunately the only thing that’s not included is a more powerful engine. Now, don’t get us wrong. For 99% of the targeted riders out there, this thing will be great. To be honest, there is enough torque and power to get things moving along at a proper clip. It’s just that you have to find it. Unlike a GS or an R, don’t think of looking for the power down low. It’s higher up in the rev range, where a normal cruiser rider wouldn’t think to look for it. The climb out from stop to past first-gear is a doozy. Clutch slipping is the only way to do it, and first gear is the only way to climb out of tight, off camber switchbacks. And even then it’s dicey. The motor, a stock R1200C powerplant, really comes into its own above 3~4k revolutions per minute and hangs onto what little bits of dignity it has all the way up to redline. Caspian Blue in front of Biltmore Estate. Ahhh. Must be nice to be the son of an industrial mag-nate. Thankfully, BMW did their homework in picking out a route that would highlight the CL’s high points, one of which is the controversial front fairing. With its scalloped top edge and unconventional headlight treatment, the CL is sure to turn heads. And heads it turned- but thankfully none of it was due to wind buffeting. That’s because the cutout was designed to offer maximum wind protection while not sacrificing any visibility. You really didn’t notice it till you’re cranked over and looking right through the cutout onto the road ahead, and not straight on the edge of the shield. The headlights are another controversial aspect of the machine. While the outer two, low beam units are descendants of those found on the R80GS, the two centrally tandem mounted, smaller, high beam units are the same as those found on the R1150. Why they chose this setup, we may never know. But we do know why the rest of the fairing looks the way it does. Wind tunnel testing contributed heavily to the final design of the fairing. There are numerous soft edges and lines that are all there to help keep the front end stabilized during cruise speed. Even things such as water run-off patterns were studied to ensure that the rider would remain as dry as possible during rain storms, which is impossible, but we give them points for trying. Surprisingly enough, the CL had gobs of ground clearance. Well, gobs for a floor board equipped cruiser anyway. Aside from the appearance, the rest remains typical BMW. However, don’t think this is simply a well-equipped R1200C. Essentially, aside from the motor, everything has been replaced. Minor touches like a lengthened swingarm and relaxed fork angles and been incorporated. More blatant updates include the addition of a six-speed, overdrive transmission as well as a wider front tire. Interestingly enough, the wheelbase is actually eight millimeters shorter than on a C. So what’s it like to ride? In a word, different. If you’ve ever ridden a large bike with a fork mounted fairing, you’ll know what I mean. Slow speeds are a bit hard to negotiate, but still doable. My only real complaint with the handling is in the front-end feel during medium and slow speed riding. There was no front-end feel to speak of, and for me, that was a bit disconcerting. Going into tight switchbacks felt like riding on ice. It didn’t help that the road surface was wet and gravel-strewn from a previous night’s storm. Regardless, as the day wore on, the senses got used to the feeling and the muscles started to adapt. In fact, it was downright pleasurable to operate at slightly higher speeds. It seems as if more loading on the front-end helps bring back the feeling. The CLs dash layout is very clean and comprehensive. Amongst all the glitz and glamour of a press-intro and the flitter of journo-speak, it gets difficult to remember who this bike was marketed for (you know who you are, mister 46 year old with $100,600 average income) and why it was even brought to fruition. Fact of the matter is that everything worked the way it was supposed to, including the revised power-assist brake system. It seems as if people were complaining about the abruptness of the first generation system, particularly when the foot pedal was applied. So, BMW fixed it, and now we’re left with a much more gradual power brake feel. In fact, brakes where fantastic overall. Quick stops using either lever or pedal can be achieved, and makes a maximum braking procedure, a procedure that was once shuddered to think about, a truly user friendly affair. Touches, like floorboard and control mounting positions were all well thought out. The brake pedal is located just in front of the right floorboard. Although it looks awkward at first, the pedal is in the perfect location. From the floorboard simply slide your foot forward and press. It’s a similar process for the heel-toe shifter. While the controls functioned as designed, ergonomics proved to be a mixed bag. The seat to floorboard relationship was great. However, the handlebar reach seemed a bit excessive, putting the rider’s arms wide. In fact, the seat is actually 0.2 inches taller than a stock R1200C but maintains its “flat-foot” factor by creative use of seat design. Unfortunately I didn’t really get to field test the bags or the lighting system as our ride only lasted a single day. But, in the little time I had, I found the bags to be typical of all the other BMW systems; well designed and fabricated. While the top case is removable, the side bags are designed to stay put. CD or, Compact Disc, technology will revolutionize the way… what? This compact disc technology is already available? Goodness gracious, I must inform my dear friend T. Alva Edison. Now, the main question remains is are people going to buy the CL? I think they will. And why not? The bike is built like a rock, and once you get used to the vague feeling front end, handles just fine. The BMW name, quality and attention to detail will be more than enough for the selling point. Luxury accouterments just add to its value. Sure its a little down on power, but when you’re just cruising the interstate, or rambling down a rural road this rig is perfect. Specifications Engine- Type: Air/oil cooled twin cylinder Bore x stroke: 101 x 73 mm Displacement: 1170 cc Horsepower: 61 bhp @ 5000 rpm Torque: 72 lb.-ft. @ 3000 rpm Compression ratio: 10.0:1 Valves per cylinder: 4 Fuel: FI and electronic controlled by Bosch Motronic MA 2.4 w/ automatic choke control Fuel capacity: 4.5 US gallons / 20.5 L Charging system: 800 W Drivetrain- Clutch: 165mm (6.5 in) dry, single plate Drive system: shaft drive Final drive: spiral bevel gears, 2.62:1 ratio Frame and Suspension- Frame: Cast aluminum front-frame section, stressed engine Front suspension: Telelever w/ coil spring, gas shock Front travel: 5.67in/114mm Rear suspension: Monolever, gas shock w/ preload adj. Rear travel: 4.72in/120mm Brakes- Brake system: BMW ABS-II Front brakes: dual 12in/305mm rotors, 4 piston calipers Rear brakes: Single 11.22in/285mm rotor, 2 piston caliper Wheels and tires- Front: 3.5×16 in cast aluminum wheel, 150/80 16 tubeless Rear: 4.0×15 in cast aluminum wheel, 170/80 15 tubeless Dimensions- Length: 95.1in/2415mm Width: 42.3in/1075mm Wheelbase: 64.61in/1641mm Ground clearance: 6.25in/159mm Seat height: 29.3in/745mm Handlebar width: 33.6in/853mm Steering angle: 56.5° Weight: 679lbs/308kgs wet/648lbs/294kgs dry Max weight: 1169lbs/530kg GVWR Colors- Pearl Silver Metallic Mojave Brown Metallic Capri Blue Metallic MSRP: $15990 Standard Equipment- Polished and chrome plated stainless-steel exhaust Electronically controlled 3-way catalytic converter Locking body-colored top and side cases; removable top case Four-lamp headlight system integrated into front fairing Heel-toe shifter and floorboards Hazard flashers Two power accs sockets Heated grips Cruise control Chrome package Radio prep Differences for CLC- MSRP: $16490 Standard Equipment- Radio/CD player Soft touch seat Heated seat Available in dealers, November 2002 Church Of MO – First Ride: 2003 BMW R1200CL appeared first on Motorcycle.com.

#IFTTT #FacebookPages